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Price 10 Cents. 



THE TEXAN BRAVO; 


OR, 


THE liDNE STAR OF TEXAS. 


A Tale of Early Life in tfie Sontfiwest. 


V>Y I)K. TAMES yi. ROBINSON. 


\ / 



THE DUEL — THE TREACHERY OF WIKOFF. 


o o o (t () o 


O O O O O O 


BOSTON: 

GEO. \V. STUDLEV, PUBLISHER, 23 HAWLEY STREET. 


■JLIJJLI,! 1 ■ ■ ■ ■ ■ J 


Entered at the Post OflBce at Boston as 8ec<m<l-clas.'< maiT inaner. Issued monthly. June, 1892. Annual Subscription 

Price, 12 iiuuiIk r«, ^1.2.') per year. 


THE 

Ou-il Library. 


A'.Series of Stories, 

..Im 

Published Monthly 

Under the above General Title. 


FOR SALE BY PERIODICAL DEALERS. 

PRICE 10 CENTS. 


No. 1. JAKE; ut, the Young Eragoon. 

A Story of the Revolutionary Struggle. 

By Major Edwards Keeler Olmstead. 

No. 2. The Witch of the Wave; nr^ The Rover's Captive. 

A Story of Adventure. 

By Captain Henry P. Cheever. 

No. 3. The Texan Bravo; or the Lone Star of Texas. 

A Tale of the Early Life in the Southwest. 

By Dr. James IT. R' hinson. 

No. 4 . vVill be issued July 12, 1892 . 


G. W. STUDLEY, Publisher, 

23 HAWLEY STREET. 


BOSTOiq- 


Ts/3:a.sb. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; 

— OR, — 

THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS, 



WELCOME AID. 


A Tale of Early Life ii> the South-west. 


BY BB. J. H. EOBIKSOIT. 


CHAraEB I. 

THE ALAMO.— WALTER ETHINGTON. 

rriHE first beams of the morning sun were 
JL saluting the “Lone Star.” A man 
forty years of age, wearing the uniform of a 
Texan officer, was standing motionless upon 
the margin of a prairie, not far from the 
Colorado Kiver; it was the general-in-chief 
of the forces raised to repel the invasions of 
the “Napoleon of the West,” and shake off 
a despotism revolting to men deeply imbued 
with republican sentiments. The general 
had received tidings from Colonel Travis, in 
command of Fort Alamo, San Antonio de 
Bexar, that he was besieged by overwhelm- 


ing numbers, and could not maintain his 
position unless reinforcements were speedily 
sent to his relief; and he had added, that 
while the Alamo held out and successfully 
resisted the enemy, signal guns should be 
fired at sunrise every morning. 

The colonel had redeemed his promise, 
and for many successive days the booming 
of distant cannon had been heard rolling 
over the prairies with a mournful sound, as 
if heralding the fate of the devoted garrison. 
General Houston, after accepting the corn* 
mand, which had been tendered him for the 
second time, and addressing a patriotic speech 
to the convention (which took the place of 
the jorovisional government) at Washing- 


2 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


ton, mounted his horse, and without loss of 
time rode toward Bexar. 

For several mornings he had heard the 
signal guns which were to assure the friends 
of the cause of Texas that the Alamo was 
yet in the hands of Travis and his men. At 
the juncture to which we have referred, he 
was in the act of listening with intense in- 
terest to catch the low thunder of the dis- 
tant ordnance. 

It was in vain that he bent forward and 
placed his ear to the ground; the sounds 
which would have been so welcome did not 
reach him. It was the hour when he had 
been bidden to expect the signal guns, and 
he felt assured that his sense of hearing, 
rendered acute by long practice, had not 
failed in this instance. With a dejected 
countenance he returned to the spot where 
he had left his party, mounted his horse, 
and went forward in the direction of Bexar 
as fast as practicable. 

Early on the following morning he again 
listened anxiously for the signal, but with 
no better success. While thus engaged 
other sounds attracted his attention. He 
heard horses approaching at a gallop, and in 
a moment they came in sight — two in num- 
ber. The foremost was ridden by a white 
man of fine figure, the other by a negro of 
gigantic proportions. Both were begrimmed 
with powder, dust and smoke, and their 
clothes were torn and stained with blood, 
W'hile the perspiration was streaming from 
the fianks of their overtaxed steeds. The 
general instinctively laid his hand upon his 
side-arms as he hailed the approaching 
horsemen. 

“ Are you friends or foes ? ” 

“ Either,” responded the man in advance, 
in a careless tone. “ A friend, if you in- 
trude not upon my rights; a foe, if you 
wrong me.” 

“ That is according to the great law of 
nature,” answered the general. “ It is the 
motto of the free sons of the forest. But 
be more definite. Do you fight beneath the 
banner of the ‘ Lone Star,’ or where the flag 
of the Dictator of Mexico is thrown out to 
the breeze ? ” 

“I am from the Alamo,” replied the 
other. 

“ From the Alamo ? ” exclaimed the gen- 
eral, quickly. “ I was just listening to hear 
the signal guns.” 

“ You will listen long ere you hear them; 
their thunders are silenced forever, and the 


gallant hearts that manned them are cold in 
death.” 

“ In the name of Heaven, tell me all 
without delay!” cried the general, greatly 
excited. “What has been the fate of 
Travis, Crocket and Bowie, and their brave 
followers.” 

“ Death, sir! ” said the horseman, clench- 
ing his fist, and setting his teeth hard to- 
gether. “ They have been murdered in cold 
blood, and after they had capitulated.” 

“How many escaped the slaughter?” 
asked the general, in a suppressed voice. 

“ Myself and servant, and a woman with 
a child in her arms, are all that survive to 
tell the story of Mexican duplicity.” 

“A band of braver men never trod the 
earth,” said the general, turning suddenly 
from the horseman and dashing a tear from 
his eye. “ Peace to their souls in that land 
where there is no oppression, and where the 
white flag of peace waves eternally.” 

“ Amen, from the deepest fountains of my 
heart,” responded the stranger. 

“Would to Heaven they had listened to 
me,” continued Houston, sorrowfully, — 
“blown up the fort and retired to Gonzales. 
But be it far from me to reproach them ; they 
acted as they thought for the best, and no 
doubt left marks of their prowess upon the 
enem5^” 

“ They fought nobly, sir.” 

“ By what miracle did you and your ser- 
vant escape ? ” 

“Those who seek death seldom find it,” 
returned the horseman. 

“ Are you weary of life ? ” asked the gen- 
eral, regarding him attentively. 

“I have sought an honorable death on 
many a hard-fought field; let that be my 
answer. At the Alamo it was my fortune 
to save the life of a young Mexican lad, and 
for that service I was spared the general 
massacre. I regret it but little, for when I 
fall, I would fall with arms in my hands, 
with my face to the foe, and not be 
slaughtered like an ox by some paltry coward 
who would fear to meet me in fair fight. 
My brave companions were cut down around 
me by scores, until not one remained but 
this faithful African who is with me, and I 
could only look on and witness the indis- 
criminate slaughter, and call on Heaven for 
vengeance.” 

“And a day of reckoning shall come!” 
cried the general, grasping his sword-hilt, 
while his nether lip trembled with indigna- 


THE TEXAN BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


3 


tion. “ I will meet the t3rrant face to face, 
and punish him for his sins.” 

“ The news I bring should rally every 
man in Texas capable of bearing arms.” 

“ It should; but there are important di- 
visions among us which bring us more mis- 
fortunes than any other cause. But, thank 
Heaven, there are those who will follow me 
to battle, and do all that their country and 
the warmest patriotism can demand.” 

“ Have I the honor of addressing the gen- 
cral-in-chief of the Texan army ? ” 

“ My name is Houston, sir.” 

“ A name already well known to fame; 
but there are those who affirm that you are 
opposed to prosecuting an energetic war, 
such as the crisis requires.” 

“ Let those who assert that I am opposed 
to decisive measures shoulder their guns and 
follow me; and he who is the first to turn 
back, let posterity brand him as a coward 
and a traitor to his country.” 

“ 1 believe not all the tales I have heard. 
That you are a brave man, has been proved 
to the world. I shall keep myself advised 
of your movements as much as possible, and 
when there is fighting to be done, I shall be 
near you to take part in it.” 

“ Your bold bearing, your free speech, 
your soiled and blood-stained garments, all 
assure me that you can fight. May I ask the 
name of one who braves death so fear- 
lessly ? ” 

“ My name can be of little consequence to 
you, but it were uncourteous not to give a 
fitting answer. I am called Ethington; but 
I care not to be known, or would be known 
only by my deeds.” 

“ Brave men should not give place to mis- 
anthropy, because, forsooth, the lady of their 
love has proved fickle or unkind. Away 
with melancholy, sir, for fortune seldom for- 
sakes one not to return again.” 

“ The advice is frankly given and well 
meant; but I regret to say that upon one like 
me, it is thrown away. I hope, in return, 
that you will never live to tarnish the fame 
which you have won, and that you may fin- 
ish the bright career before you with honor 
unsullied by a single act of cowardice.” 

‘‘ The word cowardice is offensive, sir. 
Whatever changes time may produce, it will 
fail to make me a coward,” said the general, 
contracting his brows. “You shall have 
war, and war to the knife. I say it — Sam 
Houston says it — ^and no man can say these 
lips ever uttered a falsehood.” 


“ Texas looks to you for aid in this trying 
crisis. Heaven grant that she look not in 
vain I Adieu, general, and when next we 
meet, may it be where the banner of the 
‘Lone Star’ waves triumphantly on the 
field of battle.” 

Ethington touched his cap and moved on, 
followed by the negro. Houston gazed after 
him for a moment, and then turning slowly, 
walked back to his party, with the sorrowful 
intelligence that the Alamo had fallen, and 
the devoted garrison was no more. 

“ Felix,” said Ethington to his colored 
servant. 

“ Did you spoke to dis cullud gembleman, 
massa?” said the latter, rolling up the 
whites of his eyes. 

“ Do you know where we are ? ” asked 
Ethington. 

“ In course I do.” 

“ Well, where are we ? ” 

“ In Texas, accordin’ to de rules ob jog- 
raphy as dey manifest dereselves to do in- 
visible senses ob dis enlightened nigger.” 

“ Nonsense, you thick-headed fellow. I 
mean in what particular locality are wo, 
Felix ? ” 

“Now you begin to ’press yourself to de 
understandin’ ob dis here indevidool; but I 
can’t tell you noffin about it, ’kas I never 
studied de fine arts. Why didn’t you ax de 
big cap’n wid elephants on his shoulders ? ” 

“Epaulettes, you mean.” 

“ What’s de odds ? Day all magnify de 
same ting, ’cordin’ to de enlightened views 
ob dis ’telligent nigger.” 

“ We must be near the Colorado Blver,” 
added Ethington, musingly. 

“ Now look a-here, massa, I’ve got enuff 
ob dis fightin’ bisness; and I motion dat we 
leave Texas and Mexico by de fust boat. 
Why don’t you disremember dat discompas- 
sionate white gal, and go and be as you used 
to was ? ” 

“ Be careful how you speak of Andrea St. 
Aubert, Felix. Her name, in my presence, 
must be spoken with respect.” 

“ She’ll be de death ob dis nigger,” said 
Felix, with a sigh. “If it hadn’t been for 
her, you wouldn’t been here in all dese 
scrapes, fightin’ like wild cats, and I at your 
heels, likely to be killed at any minnit.” 

“ I did not ask you to follow me; 1 gave 
you your choice to go or stay.” 

“ Darfore you am to blame, for you knew 
dis darkey feller wouldn’t leave you. Whar 
you go, dar dis nigger goes, and dar’s no 


4 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


rubbin’ it out, no how you can fix it. Yah, 
yah I heah, heahl” 

“ You are a faithful fellow, Felix, and it 
goes against my better feelings to lead you 
into danger. Should you fall, I should in 
some measure feel that I was the cause of 
your death. Once more I give you permis- 
sion to leave me and seek a place of safety. 
As for myself, I seek excitement, danger, 
battle and death. 

“ You can’t be killed no how; you might 
as well give it up fust as last. Why wasn’t 
you killed at the takin’ of Bexar, or Goliad, 
and at other great fights you’ve been in ? As 
for leavin’ you, I have ’pressed myself fully 
on dat ’portant subjeck, and de natur’ ob my 
sentiments remain de same through all 
changes ob de climate and wicissitudes ob 
de weather.” 

The parties rode on in silence for some 
distance. The sound of water was at length 
heard, and they soon reached the Colorado, 
whose banks were fringed with broad wood- 
lands, broken into bold bluffs, or covered 
with grass, bordering upon prairies, and af- 
fording pasturage, where the wild mustang, 
the deer and the buffalo were often seen. 

The horses were turned loose, and Ething- 
ton and his servant took peaceable posses- 
sion of a small cabin near the river, which 
had evidently been occupied by some person 
quite recently. Felix kindled a fire, and 
Ethington took his rifle and went in quest of 
game, for neither had tasted food since the 
previous day. 


CHAPTER n. 

EEDGLEY. — OLD KENTUCK.--THE SCOUTING 
PAKTY.— A SKIRMISH. 

It will be understood by the perusal of 
the foregoing chapter, that our hero had 
met with some severe disappointment in 
matters pertaining to the heart, which had 
driven him from his home and friends, and 
made him a reckless wanderer in the wilds 
of Texas. 

The particular circumstances which had 
led to these results shall be made known to 
the reader in due time. It is enough for the 
present purpose to say that he had been 
deeply enamored with a young lady by the 
name of Andrea St. Aubert, and for a brief 
period had firmly believed that his passion 
was reciprocated. 

Miss St. Aubert was endowed with rare 


beauty of person, and those excellent gift® 
of the mind which are calculated to charm 
and dazzle those within the sphere of its in- 
fluence. Walter Ethington was at lengthy 
as he believed, undeceived in relation to the 
object of his idolatry (for his love fell little 
short of adoration). He obtained such, 
proofs of her inconstancy, that he felt that 
all was at an end between them. Address- 
ing her a hasty note, full of reproaches for 
her perfidy, he left Louisiana — his native 
state — determined never to return, but to 
unite his fortunes to the Texan patriots whG 
were struggling for their liberties, and die, 
like a brave man, fighting to the last. 

The cup of his short-lived happiness was ^ 
dashed to the earth, and he desired to live 
no longer. His negro servant refused to 
desert him, and had shared all the dangers 
of his reckless career since entering Texas, 

He had been in many engagements, fought 
boldly, and exposed himself rashly to the 
enemy; but, strange to relate, he had, 
miraculously, as it would almost seem, es- 
caped death, and to crown all, had passed 
through the terrible tragedy of the Alamo 
unscathed, while over one hundred and 
eighty men had fallen. 

Walter Ethington was about twenty-four 
years of age, and had been pronounced 
“ handsome ” by the ladies, who are compe- 
tent judges in such matters, as every man of 
gallantry will allow. In figure he was rather 
above the medium size, straight as an arrow, 
firm and independent in his bearing. He 
was brave in battle, and his voice was the 
first to cheer on to the thickest of the fight. 
Without further description of our hero, we 
will proceed with our story. 

Having examined his rifle to see if it were 
in proper order, he followed the general 
course of the river through a dense forest of 
live oak and walnut, occasionally inter- 
spersed with the ash and sj-camore, pausing 
at intervals to watch the waters hurrying on 
to be discharged into the Gulf of Mexico. 
Emerging from the wood after half an hour’s 
walk, he stood on the border of a small roll- ^ 
ing prairie, green with grass and shrubbery. 

At that moment he saw a deer quietly brows- 
ing at the distance of about three hundred 
yards. Ethington was a good marksman, 
and though conscious that it was a long 
shot, resolved to fire without incurring the 
risk of losing the opportunity by attempting 
to get nearer. 

He discharged his piece without loss of 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXA.S. 


5 


time, and had the satisfaction of seeing 
the deer run a short distance and. fall. Hav- 
ing reloaded his rifle, he was proceeding to 
take possession of his game, when the sound 
of paddles, dipping quickly and regularly in- 
to the water, reached his ear. 

The bank of the river was but a few paces 
'from him, but when he reached it a small 
iboat had touched the shore, and a tall man 
!had leaped out, leaving a lad seated upon the 
imiddle thwart. The person who had landed 
'was probably past thirty years of age, not very 
"fleshy, but muscular enough to indicate much 
3)hysical strength. His features, though 
^.anned by exposure, were regular, strongly 
marked and bold in their expression. His 
apparel was, of course, home-made fabric, 
calculated more for service than show. His 
cap was of skin, and though not an orna- 
mental one, served all the purposes of the 
wearer. In his hand he held that indis- 
pensable attendant of the backwoodsman, a 
rifle. The one who still occupied the boat 
appeared to be a mere lad, perhaps thirteen 
or fourteen years, and Walter did not trouble 
.Biimself to bestow much notice upon him. 
"Xtuc man ascended the bank and approached 
Xthiiugton. 

“ Again we meet, but I regret to see you 
Slave not profited by my advice,^’ he said, 
-with some coldness of manner. 

“I have not; neither did I intend to,” 
Teplied Walter. “ Why you take the liberty 
to interest yourself in my affairs, I know not; 
but I will assure you, as I did at our first 
meeting, that I thank you not for your inter- 
ference. By some means. Heaven knows 
how', you have obtained some knowledge of 
my past life, and have presumed to make 
use of it under the mask of friendship, disin- 
terestedness, and all those fine things; but 
you are mistaken in your man. 1 know my 
own mind, and am pleased to follow my own 
inclinations.” 

“ Headstrong boy, how long will it be ere 
you listen to the voice of reason ? Whatever 
friendship I might have professed to feel for 
you, on the occasion of our first meeting, 
was real^ and not affected, and is in nowise 
diminished to-day. What if you do not un- 
derstand the motives which have impelled 
me to interest myself in your welfare? 
Judge me as you find me, according to my 
actions, and not according to your prejudices. 
Go back to Andi’ea St. Aubert, whom you 
have forsaken, and upon your knees beg to 
be forgiven and reinstated in her favor.” 


“Never, sir! I have sufficient proofs of 
her inconstancy, and to speak further upon 
this subject, will be to offer me a personal 
affront.” 

“ Were Andrea St. Aubert to declare with 
her own fair lips that she had sacredly kept 
her faith to you, would you believe her, or 
would you not? ” added the stranger, some- 
what sternly. 

“How could I believe her, sir, when I 
have the evidence of my own eyes ? Leave 
me! I tell you I will hear no more. Go 
and give your advice to yonder beardless 
boy; he will, perhaps, listen to you. When 
I need your counsel, I will seek you out and 
ask you boldly; until then, do not forget 
that we are strangers.” 

Walter spoke with much energy and bit- 
terness, and when he ceased, turned his 
back towards the unknown and was walking 
away. 

“ One word WQ part, You 

are in danger,” added the man, earnestly. 

‘‘So are all men; but I have eeased to 
fear danger.” 

“ But it is near — ‘even at the door,^ to use 
a scriptural phrase.” 

“ So much the better; let it come. Any- 
thing is better than monotony and inac- 
tivity.” 

“ There are those who seek your life.” 

“ Let them take it, for it has lost its 
value.” 

“ You will not be warned ? ” 

“ I thank you not for this officiousness. 
Perhaps your offers are well meant; I know 
not, and care less. I am not in a reasonable 
mood, and have no desire to be otherwise. 
I have become indifferent to all the common 
affairs of life. Deceived where I trusted the 
most, I no longer lay myself liable to decep- 
tion by trusting again. Unloved where I 
loved the most tenderly, I no longer bestow 
my love upon those who are no better, and 
dust and ashes, like she and myself. If 
I appear rude and ungrateful, you know why 
I am so, aud have thus the reason of my in- 
gratitude and rudeness. To warn me of 
danger is time lost, for it is what you term 
‘ danger ’ that I seek; and if you will inform 
me in what direction to find it, there will I 
hasten to meet it, and feel a pleasure in so 
doing.” 

“ The rash boldness that has signalized 
you in the hour of battle, has attracted the 
attention of the enemies of Texas, and a cer- 
tain number of them, under the command of 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 




one Garcia, a desperate fellow, have devoted 
themselves to the destroying of the ‘ Texan 
Bravo,’ as you are styled among them,” said 
the unknown, without heeding the remarks 
of Ethington. 

“ That suits me well,” replied Walter, 
with a smile. “ It will afford me excite- 
ment, and give me an opportunity to merit 
the name they have bestowed upon me. 
Let them come, the ‘ Texan Bravo ’ is ready; 
my life shall cost them a dozen of their best 
men. Sorrow to him who comes in range 
of this rifle, for these sights never cover 
their object in vain. And see, if they ven- 
ture to close quarters, here are my pistols 
and bowie knife ready to receive them ; whUo 
my arms have the physical power of three 
such cowardly fellows.” 

“ This is sheer madness,” said the strang- 
er. “ To say more is useless. I abandon 
you to your fate.” 

Allow me to ask the name of such a dis- 
interested friend ? ” added Ethington, some- 
%hat sarcastically. 

“ My name is Ridgley,” replied the other, 
who then walked thoughtfully towards the 
boat, pushed it from the shore, stepped in, 
took his seat in the stern, and paddled down 
the stream with the lad. 

Walter looked after them a moment, and 
then went to take possession of his game. 
Cutting the choicest portions from the deer, 
he placed them upon his shoulders, and re- 
traced his steps to the cabin. Felix now 
performed his part, and very soon they were 
dining npon roasted venison, which emitted 
a most savory odor, especially for the olfac- 
tories of a hungry man. 

When Ethington had satisfied the demands 
of hunger, he lay down by the blazing fire 
and slept. Se was not long permitted to 
enjoy this luxury uninterrupted. He was 
aroused from his dreams by Felix, who 
afltaned that he had seen a man in the 
vicinity of the cabin, who appeared to recon- 
noitre the premises without being seen. 
This suspicious individual, he furthermore 
asserted, was a Mexican, and was lurking 
about for no good. 

Ethington endeavored to assuage the fears 
of his servant, telling him that his imag- 
ination, excited by the horrors he had 
recently witnessed, had transformed some 
wild animal into a Mexican scout. But in 
this benevolent effort, he entirely failed. 
Felix could by no means be induced to 
believe that he had made such a mistake. 


Our hero now recalled the warning words 
of Ridgley, and resolved to watch for the ap- 
pearance of the object of his servant’s alarm. 
Having prevailed on the latter to lie down 
and take the rest he so much needed, Walter 
took his rifle, and from the crevices on 
either side of the cabin, commenced his 
vigils. 

For a long time he kept his eyes on the 
surrounding woods without making any dis- 
coveries. This monotonous employment 
soon had its effect upon him; the lids fell 
slowly over the drowsy orbs, and he lost all 
consciousness of passing events. He was 
awakened from this happy state of somno- 
lency by the sound of heavy footsteps. H® 
looked up and beheld a man in buckskin 
breeches, short hunting-frock, moccasins,, 
and seal-skin cap, stooping forward to enter 
the cabin. 

“ Where are you from and what is your 
purpose?” exclaimed Ethington, cocking 
his rifle. 

“ I was raised in old Kentuck, stranger., 
I’m half boss and half alligator. I belong 
to one o’ the smartest nations on the face o’ 
the airth. Give us a chew of tobacco,” saidf 
the intruder, in an off-hand way. 

“ I don’t use the weed, but i believe my 
black fellow does,” said Walter. 

“Get up. Snowball,” added the Ken*- 
tucMan, giving Felix a push with his foot. 
“ Get up, and shell out some Cavendish, and 
set the meat to roastin’. I’m as hungry aft 
a shark.” 

“Did you ’dress yourself to dis collud 
pusson?” said Felix, rubbing his eyes in 
astonishment. 

“ Stir yourself, or I’ll give you a taste of 
Old Kentuck.” Then he added, turning to 
Ethington: “ Stranger, have you been long 
in these diggins’ ? ” 

“ Several months,” was the reply. 

“ Been in any fights ? ” 

“ A few.” 

“ Can you stand fire ? ” 

“ A little.” 

“ Cut off a sparrow’s head at three htra*- 
dred yards with a rifie ? ” 

“ Never tried.” 

“ I have, and can do it. I’m a whole team 
and a dog under the wagon. Did you ever 
hear of Texan Rangers ? ” 

“Often, sir.” 

“They are perfect bosses, stranger, and 
I’m the alligator as commands ’em. Do you 
see this hollow piece of steel?” It carriea 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


7 


ten balls to the pound, and is certain death.” 

“How many does your company num- 
ber?” 

“Only twenty-five, now; the rest on ’em 
are in the chapperals and on the prairies, 
where they fell fighting like true sons of 
Kentucky.” 

“ You and your Rangers were at the taking 
of San Antonio de Bexar ? ” 

“ Right, stranger; and there was warm 
work there, I tell you, for the place was de- 
fended by eleven hundred men. We were 
at the battle preceding it, at Conception 
Mission, and did good service. Was you at 
the taking of the Alamo, stranger ?” 

“ I was, and was there also when it was 
lost, and witnessed the butchery of brave 
comrades in arms.” 

“ You don’t mean to say that the Alamo 
has been re-taken by the Mexicans ? ” 

“ It’s too true, my brave friend, and those 
who fought side by side with Rangers, will 
hear the thunders of battle no more.” 

The bold ranger was speechless with sur- 
prise and grief, and uttered not a word until 
Ethington had given the particulars of the 
sad affair. He then swore by the State of 
Kentucky, and the “ ’tarnalest great Repub- 
lic in the world,” to avenge the death of 
those who had been treacherously slaugh- 
tered at Fort Alamo. 

“Go yer de’th, Massa Kentuckl ” ex- 
claimed Felix, who, while cooking the ven- 
ison, did not forget to listen to the conver- 
sation. 

“ Where is your company ? ” asked Walter. 

“ A few miles below, restin’ a little after 
hard service.” 

Our hero now informed him about what 
Felix had seen, and the ranger advised him 
to have their horses brought in, to guard 
against their being stolen by any scouting 
parties of the enemy that might be lurking 
about the vicinity. This advice was too 
reasonable to be slighted. The animals 
were soon caught by Felix, and with the 
assistance of the Kentuckian, secured in a 
proper manner in front of the cabin. 

When Ethington awoke in the morning, 
after a refreshing sleep, which he had very 
much needed, he was greatly astonished at 
finding a gold chain of elaborate workman- 
ship wound lightly about his wrist, with a 
small piece of paper attached to it. 

He recognized the ornament at once, for 
he had in happier days given it to Andrea 
St. Aubert. But liow (^nnu; it in its present 


situation ? By what magic had it been re- 
turned to him ? Perhaps the paper would 
tell. He hastened to examine it, and found 
only the following words traced in the fair 
hand of Andrea: — 

This chain once possessed inestimable value for 
one, but now has lost its worth, and I restore it to 
the original owner.” 

This was all the paper contained, and 
there was no signature; but the chirography 
could not be mistaken. As Ethington gazed 
at the chain, the past was recalled with such 
vividness, that he found it exceedingly difii- 
cult to govern his emotions. He heard 
once more, in imagination, the soft voice of 
Andrea, beheld her face in its dazzling beau- 
ty, and her figure in its exquisite grace. He 
shed tears as he thought of her loveliness, 
both of person and of mind, and grew indig- 
nant as he remembered her inconstancy. 

“O Andrea I ” he exclaimed, “fair, but 
false; may Heaven forgive you for the an- 
guish you have caused me.” 

Ethington’s thoughts naturally led him to 
consider by what singular means the chain 
and note had been returned; but upon that 
interesting point he was obliged to content 
himself with mere conjecture. He finally 
settled down into the opinion, which ap- 
peared most reasonable, that Andrea had 
employed some person to restore the orna- 
ment, and that person had faithfully per- 
formed the commission. Walter would have 
pondered upon the subject all day, most 
probably, had not Captain Wilson, the rang- 
er, who had left the cabin at sunrise, now 
returned with the information that a scout- 
ing party of the enemy, numbering some 
ten or fifteen persons, was in the neighbor- 
hood. He had approached the spot where 
they had passed the night, and discovered 
them engaged in preparing and eating their 
morning meal. 

“ If I’d had but half a dozen rangers 
with me,” said Wilson, looking wistfully at 
his rifie, “ but few of ’em would have escaped 
to eat another breakfast.” 

“ Have the enemy ever ventured so far as 
this, before ? ” asked Ethington. 

“ Seldom or never; but they are gittin’ 
uncommonly bold, now. The affair of the 
Alamo gives the tarnal critters the idea that 
they’ve conquered all the country; but they 
will find themselves mistaken when they get 
a fair specimen of Kentucky sharp-shootin’. 
What do you say to having a brush with the 
rascals? ” 


8 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“Nothing could be more agreable,” re- 
plied Walter, “ for I have reason to suppose 
that I am tl»e object of their pursuit. I have 
been told tu^io some of our enemies have 
taken particular offence at my mode of fight- 
ing, and have sworn to accomplish my 
death.” 

“ Then you are the boss they call the 
Texan Bravo ? ” rejoined the ranger, quickly. 

“ I believe I am thus called,” answered 
Walter; “ but it is a title I never coveted, 
for I have not, and do not seek notoriety. I 
wish to remain unknown, and such has been 
my desire since I passed the boundary of my 
native State. 

“ I’ve heard about your fightin’,” said 
Wilson, “ and there is a great deal of wild 
boss in you, with a sprinklin’ of the Ken- 
tucky alligator and snappin’-turtle.” 

Yah, yah I heah, heahl What a queri- 
ous speciment ob human natur’I ” exclaimed 
Felix, displaying two rows of ivory. 

“ In what way do you propose to fight this 
scouting party. Captain Wilson ? ” asked 
Walter. 

I will tell you the plan I have thought of: 
you and I will mount the two bosses and ride 
near enough to attract their attention , and 
then ride from them as though for dear life. 
Thinking we are frightened, they will mount 
and pursue us pell-mell. We will make a 
break directly for the cabin, take our bosses 
inside, shut the door, and then shoot them 
down through the crevices as fast as they 
show their heads.” 

“The scheme pleases me; let us hasten to 
put it in execution.” 

“Go it, massa debbill” muttered Felix, 
not greatly elated at the prospect of a hard 
fight. 

“ But first let us see if we can get our 
horses inside this door,” added Walter. 

Upon trial the door was found large enough 
to admit the horses without difiiculty. The 
two then mounted, and rifle in hand, rode 
off, the ranger leading the way. A ride of 
ten minutes brought them within a few 
hundred yards of the scouting party. Turn- 
ing a little towards the prairie on the right, 
they came suddenly in sight of the enemy, 
who set up a great shout, and sprang in- 
stantly on their mustangs, which were stand- 
ing saddled and bridled near them. Ething- 
ton and Wilson now fled, as had been agreed 
upon, and thereupon ensued a scampering 
and scattering of the wildest and most ex- 
citing kind. They put their mustangs to 


their best speed, and a dozen escopetas were 
discharged in as many seconds; but the balls 
fell short, or whistled harmlessly by the 
pursued. 

“Hurrah for old KentuckI ” cried the 
ranger, and slackening his speed, brought 
his rifle to his shoulder and fired. A stout 
fellow tumbled from his seat, and the rider- 
less mustang, not knowing what else to do, 
kept on with the rest, and being relieved of 
his burden, made the best way of any. 
Ethington, not wishing to be outdone by the 
“ alligator from Kentucky,” followed his ex- 
ample with equal success. 

These feats greatly enraged their pur- 
suers. They yelled with redoubled energy, 
and urged on their mustangs with new zeal; 
but the large, fine animals ridden by Walter 
and the captain easily kept out of range of 
the escopetas. In order to prolong the sport 
(for such they considered it), they diverged 
considerably from a direct course to the cab- 
in, and they now saw with some alarm, that 
several of their enemies were making direct- 
ly for the place of their retreat, apparently 
for the purpose of cutting them off, which 
event would leave them only the alternative 
of trusting to the fleetness of their horses, 
and throw Felix into their power. 

Both of our friends saw the importance of 
frustrating this design, lest the negro should 
pay the penalty of their rashness with his 
life, — a calamity which Ethington would have 
greatly regretted, and a poor reward for the 
fidelity which had induced him to follow his 
unhappy master into the swamps, chappa- 
rels and prairies of Texas, to urge war upon 
a people destitute of honor and humanity. 

“ Let us charge through the foremost of 
the cowardly curs I ” cried Ethington. Turn- 
ing the heads of their powerful horses in an- 
other direction, slinging their rifles upon 
their backs, and grasping their pistols, they 
bore down upon the Mexicans at an in- 
creased speed. This sudden manoeuvre took 
them by surprise, as they had not supposed 
it possible that two men could have the 
audacity to charge a dozen. 

Before they had time to reflect much upon 
the subject, Ethington and the ranger were 
in their midst, overturning several of their 
small mustangs by the violence of the charge. 
Firing their pistols at the nearest, they 
dashed on without a wound or scratch, and 
in three minutes from that time were safely 
in the cabin, much to the satisfaction of 
Felix, who had heard the screaming and 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


9 


yelling of the enemy, and expected every 
moment to see them thundering up to the 
door. The horses were led in, the door 
barricaded in a proper manner, and other 
preparations for defence made. These nec- 
essary preliminaries were scarcely accom- 
plisiied, when the enemy came in sight, 
upon the most open side of the little fort — 
that which bordered upon a small prairie or 
tract of pasture land. They halted about 
two hundred yards from the cabin, and ap- 
peared to be holding a council of war. 

See the tarnal critters I ” exclaimed Wil- 
son, angrily; “ huddled together like a flock 
o’ sheep. If they were Kentuckians or 
Texans, we shouldn’t stand no chance at all 
of our lives; for they’d pull this log hut 
down about our ears in a twinklin’. Let’s 
give ’em a touch of American shooting.” 

“Go it, Massa Kentuck! ” cried Felix, 
getting somewhat excited with the idea of 
knocking a Mexican out of his saddle, with- 
out giving him time enough to say an are, or 
a pater noster. Their rifles were thrust care- 
fully through the crevices which were to 
serve as port holes. The Mexicans were 
busily engaged in talking, shouting and ges- 
ticulating. 

“ They are calling upon us to surrender,” 
said the ranger, with a laugh. “ And hear 
them; they are promising us good usage.” 

“ Hadn’t we better surrender ? ” said Wal- 
ter, gravely, looking at Felix. 

“We got enuff ob dat!” replied Felix, 
with a dismal shake of the head. “ Dis 
nigger’s going to fight.” 

“Look through your sights,” cried the 
ranger. “ Each pick his man, and fire.” 

No sooner said than executed. The rifles 
-cracked simultaneously; two of them fell 
from their saddles, and a third gave evidence 
of being badly, if not mortally wounded. 
He was lifted from his horse, carried further 
from the cabin and laid upon the grass. 
The enemy now retreated about a hundred 
yards, brandishing their weapons, and utter- 
ing all kinds of imprecations upon our heros. 

Their courage now seemed to revive a 
little; they galloped furiously towards the 
Texans, and discharged their escopetas 
^against the logs, shouting bravely, and 
scampered back to their last position — out of 
3'ifle range, as they flattered themselves. 
The balls showered harmlessly upon the cab- 
in, doing no other injury than making the 
splinters fly merrily, and frightening their 
Jhorses. 


“ I wish we could pick off their leader,” 
said Wilson. “The rest of them would 
then go about their business.” 

“That will be difiicult, for the one who 
appears to be the leader, keeps himself 
covered by his men,” replied Walter. 

Again the deadly rifles were leveled, and 
sent forth their leaden messengers with un- 
erring certainty. Astonished beyond de- 
scription by this specimen of Texan mark- 
manship, the scouting party wheeled their 
horses to the right-about face, and were 
soon beyond the reach of fire-arms. 

Walter, with reckless courage which had 
characterized all his movements since he had 
led that singular life, proposed that they 
should mount their horses and pursue the 
retreating party; but this rash movement 
was opposed by Wilson and Felix, — particu- 
larly by the latter, who felt anxious for his 
own safety as well as that of his master, — 
consequently the idea was abandoned. 


CHAPTER III. 

A RUSE DE GUERRE.— THE CONFLICT 
RENEWED. 

In a short time several of the enemy ap- 
peared, bearing a white flag; and not daring 
to venture very near, by screaming and hal- 
looing, signified that they wished to carry off 
their dead and wounded. This they were 
permitted to do without interruption; but 
the business appeared to proceed very slow- 
ly, and they returned several times, when it 
might reasonably have been supposed they 
could have accomplished the task in less 
than half the time. 

Supposing the fight was ended, Felix be- 
gan to unbar the door, under the impression 
that further precaution was unnecessary. 
He had scarcely removed the fastenings, 
when there was a sudden rush from the 
woods upon the rear of the cabin, and re- 
newed shouting and firing. While the others 
had been attracting the attention of Ething- 
ton and his comrades, these had been advanc- 
ing cautiously on foot in another direction, 
and now threw themselves against the door 
with a violence that burst it open instantly. 
The two foremost fell dead upon the thresh- 
old before the rifles of Walter and the ran- 
ger, and the head of a third was dashed in 
pieces by a tremendous blow from Felix. 

The ruse having proved successful, those 
who had been ostensibly engaged in carry- 


10 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OB, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


ing away the wounded, now came ranning 
to the assistance of their companions, and a 
most desperate and bloody conflict imme- 
diately ensued. The numbers of the enemy 
had not been correctly estimated; for, not- 
withstanding those that they had lost, and 
those rendered incapable of fighting by their 
wounds, there were still eleven to contend 
with our gallant fellows. 

“ Strike home I ” cried Ethington. 

“ Hurra for old KentuckI ” exclaimed 
Wilson. “ Give it to the tarnal critters.” 

“ Go yer de’th, massa dibbill ” yelled 
Felix, exerting his immense strength in a 
manner which defied all opposition, and 
forced the enemy to give ground inch by 
inch, leaving several of their numbers hors 
du comhaty and some who would never fight 
again. As there was not room enough in 
the cabin for them to use their rifles with 
sufficient effect, they were thrown aside, and 
that fatal weapon drawn, so well known in 
the south and south-west, — the bowie-knife, 
— and the work of slaughter commenced in 
earnest. 

It was fortunate for our heroes that all the 
enemy could not enter and fall upon them at 
once; otherwise the conflict might have 
soon been brought to a close. The horses, 
frightened at the struggle going on about 
them, became restive, reared and plunged, 
and finally broke through the Mexicans, who 
were forcing themselves in at the door, and 
gained the open air, leaving more room for 
the fight to go on. 

This sudden movement of the beast some- 
what disconcerted the enemy, but soon 
proved for their advantage; in a moment 
after, Ethington and his friends were com- 
pletely hemmed in, ‘and there seemed but 
little prospect of their coming out of the 
melee alive. Each did his best, and with 
the much dreaded bowie-knife, dealt those 
deadly thrusts which tell so fearfully upon 
the body of an adversary, and which baffie 
so effectually the skill of the surgeon. 

But the strongest arm is not iron, and 
must feel at length the weariness consequent 
upon long exertion; and it grew evident that 
a conflict so unequal could not last much 
longer. The Mexicans became more cau- 
tious as their numbers decreased, and 
though they fought desperately, observed 
more prudence in their assaults. Felix and 
an athletic fellow had grappled with each 
other in an embrace which was to yield only 
to the embrace of death, on one side or the 


other, and were now upon the ground, strug- 
gling with all the fury of mortal hate. They 
rolled over and over, writhed, twisted, and 
mutually strained every nerve, while two or 
three of the enemy stood with uplifted 
swords to put an end to the conflict when an 
opportunity should offer; but the evolutions 
of the combatants were so rapid, that they 
could not strike without danger to their 
friend. 

At length the strong hand of Felix reached 
its way to his adversary’s throat, and closed 
upon it with all its muscular force. The ef- 
fect was instantaneous; the arms of the 
Mexican relaxed their hold, his face grew 
purple, his limbs straightened out, and the 
next moment the knife of the African was 
sheathed in his heart. The conquerer cast 
the body from him, arose with a triumphant 
shout engaged with two more with unabated 
ferocity and energy; for his frame seemed 
proof against that exhaustion which his mas- 
ter and the Kentuckian began to feel. 

At that critical juncture, when the fate of 
the day hung doubtful, a new shout was 
suddenly heard to mingle with the confused 
sounds of the fight, a voice clear as the tones 
of a silver trumpet, and fiercer than the 
neigh of a war-horse. Ethington glanced to- 
wards the door, and beheld the towering 
form of Eidgley dashing aside the enemy, as 
if they were children in his way. 

“ There’s for the death of Travis, Crock- 
et, and BowieI”he cried, dealing a blow 
with a good sized hunting-axe, which he 
wielded with ease with his right hand at the 
mention of each name. The fighting in- 
stantly ceased, and those who could do so, 
fled without loss of time. Six of the eleven 
were left behind, affording ample proof of 
Texan prowess. 

“Up and away I ” cried Eidgley. “ There 
is not a moment to lose. Santa Anna, at 
the head of five thousand men, is marching 
towards Harrisburgh. The van of the army 
is already within an hour’s march. If you 
would fight for Texas, join General Houston 
without delay. 

“ Are you sure the blanketed critters are 
cornin’ ? ” asked Wilson, eagerly, who with 
Walter and the negro had sunk down ex- 
hausted, after the fight. 

“Yes, I am sure; and a few days will 
decide the fate of the ‘ Lone Star,’ ” replied 
Eidgley. 

“Not if they had many such horses as 
you are,” added the ranger. ” There’s a 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR 0*F TEXAS. 


ir. 


quantity of the alligator and snappiii’ turtle 
about you, with a wholesome sprinklin’ of 
Kentucky catamounts. Shouldn’t wonder 
if you was raised in them parts ? ” 

Ridgley made no answer to the compli- 
mentary speeches of Wilson. Ethington 
would gladly have asked the former if he 
had any knowledge of the means whereby 
the chain had been returned, but his pride 
kept him silent upon the subject. With a 
cold and formal bow to our hero, Ridgley de- 
parted as abruptly as he appeared. Ething- 
ton, notwithstanding' the service the stranger 
had rendered him, felt relieved when he had 
gone, for he feared he would again recur to 
Andrea, the object of his unhappy passion, 
and the cause of his leading a life so wild 
and erratic. He dared not trust himself to 
hear a name mentioned which he could not 
deny was still dear to him, lest it might re- 
vive and add new strength to a sentiment 
which he had sworn to conquer, though he 
could not hope to forget. 

It was with feelings of peculiar bitterness 
that he beheld once more the man who had 
boldly accused him of baseness in connec- 
tion with Miss St. Aubert. Whether he 
was a real friend, he had not yet decided; but 
that he was brave, he could no longer doubt, 
for he had now seen him fight with heroic 
courage. Walter had apprehended that 
Ridgley would take advantage of the service 
he had rendered, to speak to him again in 
relation to the subject of their two previous 
interviews ; and he was agreeably disappoint- 
ed when he saw him turn and walk towards 
the river, with his long rifle upon his shoul- 
der. Though still much exhausted, and 
smarting from the pain of several slight 
wounds, he could not resist the desire to 
watch him, and see which way he directed 
his footsteps. He arose and followed him 
slowly to the bank of the Colorado, and ob- 
served his movements. He saw him step into 
a boat, and paddle to the opposite bank; he 
then leaped out without loss of time. As 
soon as his feet touched the shore, he saw 
the lad who had accompanied him on the 
occasion of their second interview emerging 
from a thicket of willows. Upon closer 
scrutiny, Ethington perceived two horses 
standing there. Ridgley led them forth, as- 
sisted the youth to mount, leaped upon the 
other animal himself, and in a moment the 
party was lost to view. Walter joined his 
comrades, more thoughtful than usual, even 
for him. 


Felix had caught the horses, and was 
awaiting his master’s re-appearance, in order 
to depart. 

“ Now,” said Wilson, ‘‘ I will lead the 
way, and in a few hours we will be with the 
Rangers. The ground is rather rough and 
broken, and I can go as fast on foot as you. 
can safely travel on horseback.” 

Ethington agreed to this arrangement, and 
they set forward down the river. When 
they reached Bastrop, they found that the 
Rangers had already passed over, and were 
awaiting Captain Wilson on the opposite 
side. They were a fine company of men, 
well mounted and accoutred, and were noth- 
ing daunted by the news of the hostile 
movements of the enemy. With three 
cheers for the ‘‘Lone Star,” they vaulted 
into their saddles, and were soon in motion. 
Before night set in, they joined the forces 
of Houston, who was marching towards 
Harrisburg to intercept the enemy and offer 
them battle. 

The country was now completely alarmed,, 
and women and children were leaving their 
hitherto peaceful homes to seek safety in some 
other quarter. To add to the misfortunes of 
the times, the Convention had adjourned 
with the greatest precipitation from Wash- 
ington to Harrisburg, in order to secure 
their own safety; or possibly because they 
believed it their duty to do so, that the only 
semblance of a government in Texas might 
not fall into the hands of the dictator. Be 
this as it may, the flight of the Convention 
greatly increased the dangers of that period^ 
inasmuch as it weakened the confidence of 
the people, and prevented the gathering of 
reinforcements for the army. 

Elated by their recent victories, the enemy 
were advancing in three columns to crush 
forever the hopes of the young republic. 
The centre was led by Santa Anna in person, 
from San Antonio de Bexar, intending to 
pass through Gonzales, San Felipe and 
Washington, on his route to Nacadoches. 
The other two columns, under Urrea and 
Gaono, were marching forward by different 
routes, to effect a junction of their forces- 
at the Comanche crossing, at Trinity River. 

Santa Anna, hearing that the Convention 
had adjourned to Hjirrisburg, changed his 
plans somewhat, and marched directly for 
that place, with a view to the capture of the 
new government. The Texan army now 
numbered only about five hundred and 
twenty men, but was increased to sevea 


THE TEXAN" BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


1J2 


hundred strong by the time they reached 
San Jacinto. Previous to that event, they 
had received the disheartening news that 
Fannin and his men had been inhumanly 
massacred at Goliad. This piece of inform- 
•ation the general affected to treat with great 
•contempt, and assured his little band that it 
was a fabrication of the enemy, in order to 
frighten them into submission; although he 
•entertained no doubt in regard to the au- 
thenticity of the report. 

This policy on the part of Houston proved 
X)l great advantage, inasmuch as it prevent- 
ed desertions among the men — an inevitable 
result, had the astounding news been al- 
lowed to spread through the camp uncontra- 
dicted. The general did not reach Harris- 
burg until it had been reduced to ashes by 
JSanta Anna. The army halted near the 
smoking ruins, and looked upon them with 
stern and threatening visages. 

“ LookI ” said Houston, to our hero; “see 
the work of the tyrant and the assassin. 
What man is there among us who will not 
rfight, after beholding such a spectacle ? ’’ 

“ He is a craven indeed who will not fight 
for his liberty, his wife, his chtdren, or his 
.-sweetheart,” replied Ethington. 

“We are but a handful,” returned the 
general; “ but we will meet the enemy and 
conquer, or never leave the field alive. I 
will give yonder brave fellows the battle-cry 
which shall endow the arms of each with the 
strength of three of his adversaries. Let 
those who love Texas follow me in the ap- 
proaching fight, and if I shrink or falter in 
my duty, may Heaven punish me upon the 
spot by the ignoble death I should so richly 
merit.” 

“ The man who fought so daringly at the 
Horse Shoe, cannot be justly suspected of 
cowardice or want of decision,” answered 
Walter. 

“ Without stooping to flattery,” said the 
general, with a smile, “ I can well afford to 
repay the generous compliment; for the bold 
deeds of the Texan Bravo are well known to 
me. I feel assured that you will set the men 
an example that will contribute to the suc- 
cess of our arms. But,” added Houston, 
in a friendly tone, “ I learn with regret that 
some dark spirit of misanthropy has settled 
upon you; and in fact, that you are weary of 
existence. This is not as it should be. A 
brave and chivalrous young fellow like you, 
should rise above disappointment, and be 
able to look misfortune in the face.” 


“I thank you, general, for your kind 
words and benevolent intentions, and I will 
only say in reply, that in the hour of battle, 
you will find me at ray post.” 

“ I doubt it not, sir,” replied the general, 

kindly. 

“ There’s a great deal of wild boss in him, 
with a choice sprinklin’ of the alligator and 
snappin’ turtle,” remarked Captain Wilson, 
who joined them at that moment. 

“ We shall soon need all those excellent 
qualities,” said Houston, good-naturedly. 

“ I will answer for him and the rangers,” 

“ When you march us up to face the 
enemy, general, the voice of Old Kentuck 
will be heard the loudest in the fight,” re- 
joined Wilson, earnestly. 

“ ’Spress yerself I ” exclaimed Felix, ex- 
hibiting a choice collection of ivory, 

“ Be silenti ” said Ethington. 

“ Can he fight ? ” asked Houston, regard- 
ing the athletic frame of Felix with evident 
admiration. 

“ There isn’t a better man among us when 
it comes to blows,” replied Walter. 

“ Heah, heahl ” or something of that 
nature was heard to escape the lips of the 
African, 

“ He’s capable of eating three Mexicans 
at a meal without butter or salt,” observed 
the captain of the Rangers. 

“Promulgate — go yer de’th, Massa Ken- 
tuck,” added Felix. “ Allow your idees to 
become luminous. Heah, heahl” 

After some further conversation, the gen- 
eral gave orders for the army to supply itself 
with three days’ rations. This requisition 
having been complied with, the defenders of 
the “ Lone Star ” crossed Bayou Buffalo, 
and prepared to give battle to the enemy. 
Santa Anna was advancing to cross the San 
Jacinto, and Houston took up a position in a 
copse, determined to dispute further pro- 
gress. 

The enemy approached and opened upon 
them with a brass twelve pounder; but their 
fire was silenced by two six pounders (the 
only field pieces with which the Texans had 
been supplied), which succeeded in turning 
the Mexican infantry, forcing it to take 
shelter in a heavy growth of wood. 

Failing to bring on a general engagement, 
as he had intended, Santa Anna fell back 
about fifteen hundred yards, and began to 
strengthen his position by erecting fortifica- 
tions near the bay of San Jacinto. Many 
of the Texan officers were in favor of giving* 

O O 


THE TEXAN BKAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


m 


battle without delay; but the cool head of 
Houston overruled this premature move- 
ment, and another sun was destined to set 
and rise on the yet bloodless field of San 
Jacinto. 


CHAPTER IV. 

WIKOFF.— A CHALLENGE.— MARIANNA.— A 
RIVAL. 

The defenders of Texas rested upon their 
arms. When the sun went down, and for 
some time after, the enemy’s twelve pound- 
er thundered upon their position, awaking 
the echoes of the adjacent hills and wood- 
lands; while the balls spent their fury upon 
the sheltering trees, splintering their trunks 
and lopping off their boughs. 

After doubling the guard and taking all 
the precautions which a soldier of his 
experience thought necessary to prevent a 
surprise, the general-in-chief wrapped him- 
self in his military cloak, placed his saddle 
for a pillow, and feeling that he had done all 
that duty required, slept the warrior’s sleep, 
undisturbed by the random shots of the 
enemy, dreaming of victory on the morrow. 

The gentle moon rode up into the starry 
skies, and the goddess of silence waved her 
misty wings over both armies. Walter Eth- 
ington felt but little inclination to sleep. 
Seated upon one of the field pieces, he had 
kept his eyes fixed dreamily upon the dull 
camp fires of the hostile troops. The steady 
tread of the sentinels, the dissonant ringing 
of arms, and sometimes the hum of voices, 
were borne to his ears upon the whispering 
winds from the enemy’s bivouac. Ething- 
ton’s thoughts were not engaged with those 
objects upon which his attention was appar- 
ently fixed. Andrea St. Aubert, with all 
those advantages of mind and person which 
had made him her humble worshipper in 
days that were gone, was once more the sub- 
ject of his meditations. 

Grieved and disappointed as he had been 
by what appeared to him her heartless per- 
fidy, he could not deny that she was still 
dear to him, and that he had often found 
himself dwelling with strange fondness (or 
infatuation) upon the past. He mechanic- 
ally drew from his pocket the chain which 
had been so mysteriously restored to his pos- 
session. He sighed heavily as his eyes 
wandered over the shining links, for he re- 
membered the evening when he had play- 


fully thrown it over the snowy neck of 
Andrea. While he held the chain in his- 
hand, and was occupied with the reflections, 
a hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder. 

Ethington turned sharply towards the in- 
truder. 

“ It has been told me that you are weary 
of life,” said the stranger, abruptly. 

‘‘ Excuse me,” replied Walter, coldly, “ I 
have not the honor of your acquaintance.” 

“ You shall not long labor under 
that disadvantage,” replied the other. “ It 
is very possible that you have never heard 
my name mentioned;, but it is probable,, 
should you survive this night and the next 
twenty-four hours, you will never forget me- 
during your life. My name is Wikoff.” 

“Well, sir, what is that to me?” said 
Ethington, impatiently. 

“ I am the lover of Andrea St. Aubert, 
consequently your rival;, and I am happy to 
add, your favored rival,” rejoined Wikoff,. 
bowing profoundly. 

“ I regret that she has made so poor a 
choice,” retorted Ethington, calmly. 

“ Is that all you have to say ? ” asked 
Wikoff, sneeringly. 

“ All I have to say here; but cross yonder 
hedge with me, and I will speak to you in 
another way,” said Ethington, with difficul- 
ty restraining the deep resentment which 
the stranger’s insulting words and manner 
had awakened. 

“ Swords, pistols, or rifles ? ” asked Wik- 
off. 

“ Either,” replied Walter. “ I am wholly 
indifferent as to weapons.” 

“ We will try pistols, then.” 

“Very well.” 

“ And the time ? ” 

“ The sooner the better, for I am impa- 
tient to punish your insolence. No man has^ 
yet dared to speak the name of Andrea St. 
Aubert in the manner you have presumed to 
speak it to-night. That you are some 
worthless adventurer I doubt not; but I will 
meet you, and perhaps chastise your arro- 
gance, and tame your presumption.” 

“ Let it be to-morrow night, if you sur- 
vive the approaching conflict.” Wikoff laid 
particular stress upon the last words of the 
sentence, and then added, with a sinister 
smile, “It were a pity to rob you of the 
glory of the anticipated fight 1 I should 
always regret it, I assure you. After the 
battle, meet me on the bank of yonder river, 
near that cluster of live oaks, with or with- 


u 


THE TEXAX BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR Ol’ TEXAS. 


out a friend, just as j^ou choose. There is a 
delightful plat of grass there, and a fall up- 
'on it would not be likely to break your 
bones i, and may form a very easy couch for 
you to close up the last accounts of life upon.” 

“ Of all times this would suit me best,” said 
Ethington. “ The moon, aided by the stars, 
sheds light enough for the purpose, and 
nothing can be gained by wasting time. 
However, I accede to your terms, for to- 
morrow I would fight for the ‘ Lone Star,’ 
and a wound, even from an insolent adven- 
turer, might prevent me from assisting in a 
struggle where every arm is needed.” 

“ Remember the place of meeting, for I 
would not lose the opportunity of punishing 
you for having at one time in your life laid 
claim to the hand of Miss St. Aubert; a 
piece of presumption I can never pardon.” 

Ethington’s blood boiled with indignation, 
and he partly raised his hand to strike down 
the intruder; but mastering his feelings 
with a powerful effort, he turned his back 
upon Wikoff and walked from him. An in- 
sulting laugh followed our hero, and worked 
up his fury to such an extent, that he was 
about to retrace his steps, and chastise the 
offender on the spot; but upon looking in 
the direction where he had left him he had 
disappeared. 

Here was another wonderful link in the 
chain of mystery which had been recently 
cast about the career of Ethington. The 
motives and actions of Ridgley he could not 
understand; and the singular audacity and 
malignity of the new-comer, Wikoff, were 
quite as inexplicable. The last adventure 
furnished new food for reflection, and he 
was endeavoring to mentally digest the 
same, when Captain Wilson joined him. 

“ I have been looking for you,” said the 
ranger. “ I wanted to have some confiden- 
tial talk with you, and perhaps ask your 
advice and assistance.” 

“ Very well, captain, I am at your service; 
you have only to command me,” replied 
Ethington. 

“ Mr. Ethington, I am an honest Ken- 
tuckian, although somewhat rude and bear- 
ish, no doubt; but I will be frank with you, 
and come to the subject uppermost in my 
thoughts at once. About two miles beyond 
Vince’s Bridge, there is a neat farm-house, 
owned and occupied by a man of the name 
of Lee, who some years ago married a 
fair Mexican woman, and has now a son 
grown to manhood, and a daughter of about 


seventeen. Marianna is one of those be- 
witching girls that must be seen in order to 
be appreciated. Such dark languishing 
eyes, and such a figure I Why, it equals 
Old Kentuck; and that’s saying a great deal. 
Two glances, sir, from the dazzling orbs of 
Marianna have done more for me than all 
the escopetas of the Mexican army; for they 
have inflicted wounds of such a nature as 
can’t be healed by the common treatment of 
gunshot wounds. The Mexican women are 
very pretty, sir, notwithstanding the men 
are such villanous fellows; and Marianna 
has just enough Mexican style of beauty to 
make her one of the most enchanting girls 
living.” 

I would advise you to surrender at dis- 
cretion, Captain Wilson,” said Ethington. 

“ I certainly would, if I thought I could 
make honorable terms; but there’s the rub.” 

“ You have made love to her, doubtless.” 

“ The word hasn’t ever been mentioned 
between us, sir. If I have made love at all, 
it has been done with my eyes, for I hadn’t 
dare open my lips on the subject. I can 
face the enemy and give ’em a taste of Ken- 
tucky skill, but I have never been able to 
tell Marianna Lee that I love her; the very 
thought of it makes the perspiration stand in 
drops on my forehead, and excites me more 
than did the storming of Bexar, when only 
two hundred of us fought our way from 
house to house and whipped eleven hundred 
of the enemy. But what I wish to say is 
this: if we should be beaten to-morrow, the 
robbers of Santa Anna will overrun the 
whole country, sparing neither age nor sex; 
and Lee who has thus far refused to move 
an inch, will be among the first to suffer. I 
have made up my mind to cross Vince’s 
Bridge, and warn Lee of the danger that 
threatens, and endeavor to fix upon some 
means of giving them early intelligence of 
the battle.” 

“ The idea is a benevolent one, and if you 
will permit me, I will accompany you.” 

“ That is the favor I was about to ask,” 
answered the ranger; “ but you have antici- 
pated the request.” 

Arming themselves thoroughly, Ethington 
and the captain left the bivouac, and direct- 
ed their footsteps towards Vince’s Bridge, 
which both armies had passed over in order 
to attain their present position. They 
crossed it without interruption, and silently 
pursued their way towards the residence of 
Marianna Lee — the maiden whose gentle 


THE TEXAN BRAV'D; OB, THE LONE STAB OB TEXAS. 


15 


witchery had cast a spell over the senses 
of the daring Kentuckian. 

They traversed a few half-cultivated fields, 
skirted by fiourishing woodlands, and after 
various turnings and windings, and penetrat- 
ing a thick growth of hickory, emerged into 
a. large clearing, upon the farther side of 
which, just under the shelter of some tall 
chestnut trees, stood the house of Mr. Lee. 

As they approached it, they were aston- 
ished at hearing a confused hum of voices 
proceeding from within. Advancing more 
cautiously, the ranger took the liberty to re- 
connoitre the interior as much as practicable 
through the windows. Fortunately for his 
purpose, a curtain had been imperfectly 
drawn, and he had ample opportunity for 
gratifying a pardonable curiosity. 

A scene met his view which, as he ex- 
pressed it, “ riled up his Kentucky blood.” 
Four Mexicans, either deserters from the 
enemy, or banditti which had followed in 
the wake of the victorious army, were cosily 
seated beneath the hospitable roof of Mr. 
Lee, eating and drinking his good things, and 
having matters pretty much their own way. 
The master of the house sat with folded 
arms and sullen brow, a few yards from his 
unwelcome guests; while his wife and Mari- 
anna, with pale and anxious faces, strove to 
entertain them and not give cause for offence. 
They called vociferously for aguardimte^ 
and when it was furnished them, drank 
more deeply, and grew more insolent. 

Presently, the most jauntily dressed of 
the four seated himself face to face with 
Marianna, evidently anticipating a pleasant 
time; while another cried out in an insolent 
tone, “ I want a glass of brandy.” Mr. Lee 
informed him that there was no more in the 
house, which put him in a violent passion, 
and set him to fingering the handle of his 
dagger in a very threatening manner. 

Meantime the gallant who had drawn his 
chair in front of Marianna, began to say 
fine things to her a la Espanola (in Spanish 
fashion), which so far from proving agree- 
able, annoyed and terrified her excessively. 
She arose to leave him, but he insisted that 
she should remain where she was. To 
crown his politeness, the cabellero insisted 
that his timid companion should smoke a 
cigaretta; that the ladies of his country 
smoked; that such lips seemed made in 
vain, unless they held a roll of the fragrant 
weed. 

It was in vain that Marianna protested 


that she held cigarettas in abhorence; the 
courteous senor lighted one for himself and 
another for her, and puffed out stifiing vol- 
umes of smoke, which nearly choked her. 

She threw the vile cigaretta from her in 
disgust, and with tears gathering in her 
bright eyes, begged to be excused, which 
the gentleman offered to do conditionally. 
Inasmuch as the cigaretta was obnoxious to 
her lips, she would have no objection to re- 
ceiving a salute upon them from so proper 
a person as himself. 

This proposition alarmed her more than 
the former, and raised the ire of her father 
to a pitch which he could no longer restrain. 

“Kuflianl” he exclaimed, starting from 
his seat, “ desist, or I will strangle you on 
the spotl ” And then he added, fixing his 
fiashing eyes upon his guests: “ I have had 
enough of this, cabelleros. I am master in 
my own house, and I order you to leave it 
without delayl ” 

The rascals had only been waiting for 
some pretence for a quarrel, for the last 
half-hour, and this decided language now af- 
forded a good one. They sprang up, drew 
their daggers, and made a furious attack up- 
on their host. Their first Mexican oaths 
were scarcely uttered, when the door burst 
open, and Ethington and the ranger rushed 
in upon them. Lee had already prostrated 
one of the ruffians with a blow of his fist, 
and when our two friends made their unex- 
pected entry, the others ceased offensive 
operations at once, not a little nonplussed 
and confounded at the appearance of two 
such formidable looking Americanos, 

“ Down with them,” shouted Wilson, and 
being ably seconded by Ethington, the vaJr 
iantes were soon hurled upon 'the fioor, with 
no other wounds than those indicted by the 
clenched hand. 

“ What shall be done with them now ? ” 
asked Ethington. 

Wilson made a motion towards his pistols; 
but Lee shook his head, saying that in his 
opinion such a procedure would be unneces- 
sary, as they would probably go their way 
peaceably, if permitted, and doubtless, never 
trouble them again. 

“I can’t forget the Alamo,” replied the 
ranger, “ and if we shouldn’t whip the 
scoundrels to-morrow, you’ll be pretty sure 
to have more trouble with these senors; but 
if you say let them go, I won’t object, 
though greater villains never escaped their 
just deserts.” 


16 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXASi 


The discomfited dons were allowed to get 
upon their feet, and were respectively kicked 
into the open air by Wilson, who appeared 
to take great pleasure in the exercise ; and 
Ethington observed the fellow who attempt- 
ed to make Marianna smoke a cigar, re- 
ceived a double portion of punishment. 

When quietness was somewhat restored, 
our hero had an opportunity to observe the 
object of the ranger’s passion at his leisure, 
and was glad to see that her charms had not 
been overrated by him; and in fact, he soon 
came to the conclusion that her personal 
advantages far exceeded the captain’s de- 
scription. Her symmetrical figure, neither 
too short nor too tall, not lacking in embon- 
point^ nor yet so plethoric as to be wanting 
in elegance, her graceful carriage, her hand- 
some, oval face, and above all, her dark and 
eloquent eyes, made Ethington think of 
Andrea St. Aubert. 

The pallidness produced by her recent ter- 
rors, had given place to a slight flush resem- 
bling the ruddiest carnation of a blush, 
which rather enhanced her beauty than 
otherwise. The ceremony of introduction 
to the father, mother and daughter was 
gone through with, and the latter, though 
evidently embarrassed, was soon led into an 
agreeable conversation; while the captain, 
so valiant in the hour of danger, had sudden- 
ly become as silent as a bashful maiden. 
Strange are the doings of the winged little 
boy with the bow in his hand and the quiver 
of arrows at his back. 

Mrs. Lee was still in the prime of life, and 
enough of beauty yet remained to show that 
the daughter was fairly entitled to hers. 
The son, James, they were informed, had 
started that very evening to join the forces 
of Houston, and Mrs. Lee bespoke the kind- 
ly offices of the ranger, should her boy be 
wounded while contending for the liberty of 
Texas. Wilson felt himself but too happy 
to promise all that she could desire, and a 
grateful look from Marianna more than re- 
warded him for his protestations, and caused 
the tell-tale blood to mount precipitately to 
his sun-burnt cheeks. 

As the evening advanced, the captain got 
the better of his timidity in some measure, 
and .ventured to make a few commonplace 
remarks to Marianna, who replied so court- 
eously that he was highly delighted. 

Matters were progressing thus pleasantly 
when there was a new arrival, which marred 
all the captain’s pleasure, and caused a deep 


frown to appear upon his usually open brow. 
The last comer was a man about Wilson’* 
age and size; but possessing none of hi* 
frankness of character, and but a small share 
of his manliness and good looks. 

He was introduced as Mr. Cogswell. Eth- 
ington noticed that the two exchanged 
glances which were anything but friendly; 
and it was quickly apparent to him, that in 
the person of a stranger, the ranger had a 
rival whom he held' in mortal aversion,, 
which was amply reciprocated by the former. 

Immediately the cheerfulness of Marianna 
disappeared, and all parties felt embarrassed 
and ill at ease, save the new-comer, who- 
with a careless “ good-evening,” seated 
himself as near the young lady as possible,, 
and began to converse with a freedom that 
was quite provoking to the Kentuckian. 
With an easy and off-hand manner, he talked 
of every subject of interest, favoring the 
ranger with many contemptuous glances and 
cutting innuendoes. 

“ Do you vegetate in these parts, strang- 
er ? ” he asked, at length, addressing him- 
self to Wilson. 

“ I calculate I don’t,” replied the latter. 

“ Belong to the army, perhaps ? ” 

“ Perhaps I do,” rejoined Wilson, drily. 
“ Every brave man goes to the field to fight 
for his rights. I take it that you don’t be- 
long to the army, Mr. Cogshell ? ” added the 
ranger, emphasizing the name, which he de- 
signedly pronounced wrong. 

“ My name is Cogswell — and I do not be- 
long to the army. The ranks are so full of 
vagabonds and ragamuffins, that it’s no 
place for a gentleman,” replied Cogswell. 

“ If the Texan army is composed of such 
materials as you mention, stranger, I should 
think it would be the very place for you,” 
said the ranger, eyeing Cogswell savagely. 

“T fight on my own hook,” rejoined the 
other. 

“ If you’ll jest take your hook and come 
with me, I’ll give you a specimen of Old 
Kentuck that’ll make you see stars and 
other heavenly bodies,” added Wilson. 

“Remember there are ladies present,” 
interposed Ethington. 

“ And the fairest the ‘ Lone Star,’ can 
boast of,” said the ranger with a desperate 
effort. 

Cogswell frowned more darkly than ever, 
and darted a furious look at the captain. 
Marianna was much agitated, and looked 
imploringly at Ethington. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


17 


‘‘We will have no quarreling, gentlemen, 
if you please,” said Mr. Lee. Obedient to 
a gesture from the latter, Marianna arose 
and left the room, while Cogswell sat glaring 
at the Kentuckian like some half-tamed ani- 
mal escaped from his keepers. Bending to- 
ward Wilson, he said, in a low and deter- 
mined voice: — 

“ This is no place for you. The man who 
comes here to see the bright eyes of Marian- 
na, will have to deal with Tim Cogswell I ” 

“ And do you think to frighten an alliga- 
tor from Old Kentuck with such silly 
bravado ? ” replied Wilson, in the same tone. 
“ If you have anything of that kind to say, 
meet me with the rifle or bowie-knife, and 
settle it like a man. There are plenty of 
places hereabouts where such a thing can be 
done in a quiet business sort of a way. And 
perhaps, come to think on it, the affair might 
as wen be arranged now as any time. We 
crossed a field, not a great distance from 
here, which would be just the thing. I see 
you’ve got your shootin’ iron with you; sup- 
pose you take it and follow me. If you 
should pop me over, my lieutenant would be 
promoted, and there would be one Ken- 
tucky lad the less, and I shouldn’t be stand- 
in’ in anybody’s way. On the other hand, if 
you should be sped, why, it’s my candid 
opinion nobody would be sorry, and Marian- 
na Lee wouldn’t trouble herself to shed a 
single tear for you.” 

“ When I fight,” replied Cogswell, color- 
ing, “ it shall be in the daytime, and with 
friends present to see fair play. One thing 
is certain; you will hear from me sooner 
than will prove agreeable. I am your enemy 
to the death, and as such, we will meet 
again.” 

With a low, insulting laugh, Cogswell 
arose and left the house. 

“ He fears the Kentucky rifle,” said Eth- 
ington. 

“He’s a coward, or he wouldn’t have re- 
fused such an offer,” replied the ranger. 

The conversation now took a more agree- 
able turn, and Mr. Lee earnestly strove to 
make his visitors forget the unpleasant inci- 
dent which had just occurred. Promising to 
give him the earliest intelligence of the fate 
of the battle, our two friends departed, and 
directed their footsteps towards the Texan 
bivouac. The camp fires had gone out. A 
deep silence rested upon the motionless 
figures of the weary soldiers, broken only 
by the slow tread of the sentinels who kept 


sleepless vigils over those who were to de- 
cide the fate of the “ Lone Star ” so soon. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE BATTLE OF SAN JACINTO. 

The sun of the twentieth of April arose 
with undimmed splendor, and his beams 
were reflected brightly from the burnished 
arms of the hostile enemy. The general-in- 
chief was already in the saddle, and the ban- 
ner of the “ Lone Star ” was floating proud- 
ly and defiantly in the morning breezes, and 
the columns of Texans were forming in the 
order of battle. 

While these stirring scenes were progress- 
ing, Houston was seen conferring with a 
well-known personage, who passed in camp 
by the name of Deaf Smith — a man with a 
brave heart, a strong hand, and willing to 
execute the commands of his superior of- 
ficer, even to death. In a moment after, 
Ethington saw Smith with two polished axes 
standing at a little distance from the fast 
filling ranks, with eyes fixed steadily upon 
the general as if awaiting some important 
order. 

“ Are you going to fight with two axes ? ” 
asked Wilson, somewhat sarcastically, as he 
passed him. 

But Deaf Smith heeded him not; for there 
was only one voice that could arouse his 
warlike spirit, and set his stout limbs in mo- 
tion. 

The defenders of Texas were under arms, 
impatient for the enemy to advance; but all 
was quiet within the Mexican lines, and 
they showed no disposition to come to an en- 
gagement. The general consulted with his 
officers on the expediency of attacking the 
enemy. Pour of the six field officers who 
constituted the council, opposed the idea of 
an attack with all their power, representing 
that the great disparity of numbers, the ad- 
vantages of the enemy’s position, and his 
superior discipline, rendered the measure 
too hazardous to be thought of. Two only 
were in favor of the movement, and not 
fearful of the consequences of advancing in 
an open prairie, and charging a disciplined 
army with a raw soldiery and two hundred 
bayonets. 

Having learned the opinions of his officers, 
the general’s next step was to ascertain the 
feelings of his men. They were found ready 
and willing to fight the enemy on his own 


u 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


ground, since they evinced no disposition to 
leave it. 

Considerable time had elapsed in these 
deliberations, and it was three o’clock in the 
afternoon before the Texan troops were 
ready to move forward upon the enemy. 
Once more they wheeled into line, the first 
regiment under command of General Burle- 
son, forming the centre; the second under 
Colonel Sherman, the left wing; while the 
artillery under Colonel Hockley, and four 
companies of infantry under Lieutenant- 
Colonel Millard, took the right. The whole 
of the Texan cavalry numbered but sixty- 
one, and these, commanded by Colonel 
Lamar, occupied the extreme right. 

When all was in readiness for the attack, 
the general gave an order to Deaf Smith in 
a low voice. Immediately he leaped upon a 
horse which stood near him, and with his 
axes galloped furiously away towards Vince’s 
Bridge, followed by Felix. 

The shrill tones of the fife, the clear, ring- 
ing notes of the bugle, and the din of the 
drum were now heard along the Texan lines, 
which were soon in motion, and moved 
steadily until within two hundred yards of 
the enemy’s breastworks. 

Captain Wilson with the Rangers had 
taken his position on the right of the Texan 
infantry, and advanced on foot. Ethington 
shouldered his rifle and joined them, resolved 
to “ do his devoir ” like a brave man, strike 
another blow for liberty, and avenge his 
fallen comrades who slept in the smoulder- 
ing ruins of the Alamo, and at Goliad. 

“ Texans, bosses and alligators from Old 
Kentucky!” said Captain Wilson. “Yon- 
der are our enemies. You have got good 
rifles in your hands, and know how to use 
them. Don’t fire until you are sure of your 
man; for we meet the foe one to three, and 
that’s considerable odds. But do your duty, 
and we will whip them so they won’t forget 
the Rangers while they remember anything 
of an airthly nature.” 

This eloquent and highly patriotic speech 
was received with shouts of applause by the 
Rangers. 

“ Here comes the general, my lads,” add- 
ed the captain. “ Listen, and let us hear 
what he is going to say.” 

In a moment all eyes were directed to the 
towering figure of Houston, who appeared 
in front of the Texan lines, mounted upon a 
powerful horse. 

“ Fellow-soldiers, countrymen, and friends 


of liberty, upon you rests the last hope of 
the ‘ Lone Star.’ If you conquer the enemy, 
the rights of Texas will be secured, and you 
will return in peace and covered with glory 
to your wives and sweethearts; but if you 
fail, you will never leave this field alive. 
You will share the fate of Travis and his 
men.” 

At this juncture. Deaf Smith was seen 
spurring his horse madly towards the 
general, swinging an axe triumphantly 
over his head. Pulling up his panting 
steed with a force that brought him upon his 
haunches, he addressed a few words to the 
commander-in-chief. 

The latter drew forth his sword, and while 
its polished steel gleamed in the sun, added 
in a voice which rang out along the lines 
like the tones of a deep-toned trumpet: — 

“Fellow-soldiers, you have thirsted to 
meet the dictator and his minions face to 
face, and behold the hour has come. The 
tyrant is before you, there is no retreat, you 
must fight! Vince’s Bridge is cut away, and 
victory or death is ours. I ask no man to 
do more, or exert himself more, than I do. 
He who would fight, let him follow me, and 
remember the Alamo! ” 

As the general ceased speaking, he 
turned his horse’s head, and shouting to his 
men, bore down into the teeth of the foe, 
while a loud and angry murmur, like the 
voice of many waters, arose from the Texan 
lines, as they swayed to and fro an instant, 
and then followed their leaders, each arm 
inspired with the strength of three of his 
enemies. “ Remember the Alamo! remem- 
ber the Alamo! ” and the heart of every 
Texan swelled with indignation, and their 
eyes flashed with fury, as the battle-cry 
passed from mouth to mouth, inciting all to 
deeds of prowess almost without a prece- 
dent in the annals of war. 

The enemy received the last hope of the 
“ Lone Star,” drawn up in perfect order. 
At the distance of sixty yards they opened a 
fire upon the advancing Texans; but their 
aim was bad, and most of the leaden hail 
whistled harmlessly over their heads. 

“Steady, men! reserve your fire until the 
word is given! ” thundered Houston, and 
well each man obeyed. When within pistol- 
shot of the Mexican columns, the word 
“ fire! ” was shouted along the Texan lines, 
and a deadly volley was poured into the en- 
emy’s ranks, prostrating them as the winds 
shake off the leaves in autumn. 


THE TEXAN BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


19 


When they had discharged their pieces, 
they did not pause to reload them, but rush- 
ing forward upon the foe, broke them over 
their heads. This done, they drew their 
pistols from their belts, fired them with ter- 
rible effect, and then threw them at those 
nearest them. Then unsheathing their 
bowie-knives, they clambered over heaps of 
the slain, and plunged them to the hilt in 
the bodies of those in the rear. Thus the 
work of slaughter went on, and the red de- 
mon of carnage rode triumphant over that 
prairie, so peaceful and bloodless an hour 
ago. 

The right and left wing of the Mexican 
army gave way before the irresistible 
charge of the Texans; but the centre re- 
mained firm, and strove with desperate en- 
ergy to withstand the shock. At this criti- 
cal period Santa Anna prepared to charge 
the Texan infantry at the head of five hun- 
dred of his best men. Houston instantly 
perceived the danger, and rallying his men, 
and putting himself at their head, stood his 
ground manfully, and shouting the battle- 
cry once more, ordered them to fire. 

“Take good aiml” cried Wilson to his 
Rangers, and the command was well 
obeyed. When the Texans poured forth 
their leaden storm once more, but thirty- 
two out of the five hundred who had pre- 
pared to charge them remained among the 
living, and they were instantly made 
prisoners. 

A terrible panic now seized the enemy. 
They saw their comrades falling on every 
hand, and felt that they had never encoun- 
tered such determined foes before. Masses 
of the dead, presenting a horrible memento 
of war, lay piled up where their front ranks 
had received the charge of the Texans, and 
mounting over this ghastly breastwork, 
those who remembered the Alamo, plunged 
their reeking blades into the living men who 
fought behind them. 

The prowess of hirelings was not proof 
against the valor of soldiers who contended 
for human rights; they broke and fled, and 
the slaughter became more fearful still. 
Towards Vince’s Bridge the routed remnant 
of the dictator’s army fled. When they 
reached the spot where they had crossed, by 
straining every nerve, urged on by the 
flashing steel of the Texans and their mad 
battle-cry, their consternation cannot be 
conceived when they saw the stream rolling 
darkly on, spanned by no bridge by which 


they could escape the fury of their con- 
querors. 

Some with cries of mortal terror threw 
themselves into the water, which, before 
they had sunk for the last time, and while 
the pains of suffocation yet held them, was 
stained with the blood of their companions 
in arms; and when they went down to rise 
no more, the final bubbles that marked the 
spot where they disappeared were red as the 
currents which had warmed their own 
hearts. “Remember the Alamo! ” were 
the last sounds that greeted the ears of the 
despairing wretches. 

At the place where the bridge had been 
cut away many turned and fought, while 
some falling upon their knees cried out, in 
tones that long haunted the ears of Ething- 
ton, that they were not at the Alamo. But 
what did that avail with men who felt that 
they had been wronged past reparation, and 
by the treatment which they had received 
from their foes, no longer held to the usage* 
of civilized warfare ? 

Excited by the scenes of the fight, and re- 
calling what he had witnessed at Fort Ala- 
mo with a vividness but too real, Ethington 
cheered on his comrades, and was foremost 
in the melee. Side by side with Captain 
Wilson, and followed and imitated by the 
Rangers, he did his devoir nobly, and when 
he shouted the battle-cry, it thrilled like 
electricity through the heart of every man 
who heard it. Once, when the ensign who 
bore the banner — a star on a red ground — 
was wounded and fell, he nished to the res- 
cue, and with his own hand restored it, and 
struck down the daring fellow who had at- 
tempted to capture it. 

After the flight to Vince’s Bridge, an ac- 
cident occurred which well nigh proved fatal 
to our hero. In his eagerness to follow up 
the advantage which they had gained, he 
became separated from the Rangers, and 
found himself contending singly with over- 
whelming numbers. Half a score of Mexi- 
can lances were instantly leveled at his per- 
son. Ethington saw the danger, but was 
not terrified. Death he had long held in 
contempt, and was quite willing to yield up 
his life upon a well-fought field. 

He smiled grimly upon his foes, and re- 
solved in his fall to give them good cause to 
remember him. With his rifle, which ho 
had managed to retain during the conflict, 
he dashed aside many a thrust from sharp 
lance and bristling bayonet. At the critical 


20 


THE TEXAH BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OP TEXAS. 


moment, when the exertions of one could 
not hope longer to be successful, the voice 
which Ethington had heard once before in 
the hour of battle, reached his ears amidst 
all the din of conflict; and immediately the 
tall form of Ridgley was seen scattering the 
foe to the right and to the left by the force 
of his unaided arm, followed by Felix and 
the captain of the Rangers. Ridgley gained 
the side of Ethington, and his assailants 
soon gave ground. 

“ Go yer de’th, massa debbill ’’ cried Fe- 
lix. “ Hurra for Mexicus and Texicol ” 

“ Indebted to you for a second favor,” 
said Ethington, as Ridgley pressed to his 
side, and the Mexicans fell back. 

“Don’t speak of it,” replied Ridgley, cold- 
ly, wiping the moisture from his brow, and 
turning his attention to another part of the 
field. 

“ I am not so churlish as not to thank 
you for your bravery,” added Walter. 

“ I want no thanks, young man. I came 
here to fight,” answered the stranger, gruffly. 

“The day is oursi” shouted Houston. 
“Three times three cheers for the Lone 
Starl ” As the general spoke, the faithful 
horse which had borne him through the fight 
so bravely, reeled and fell to the earth. It 
had been struck by seven musket-balls, but 
had nobly borne his master until his last 
drop of blood was spent, and sank down at 
the moment victory was completely won. 

The hero of San Jacinto had been severely 
wounded at the commencement of the bat- 
tle, but had scorned to heed his hurts when 
there was so much at stake. He was quickly 
assisted upon another steed, and the “ three 
times three ” were given with right good will; 
and the frightened wretches who had sur- 
vived the conflict heard it with awe and won- 
der, for they knew but little of the enthus- 
iasm of men who had devoted their lives to 
the cause of freedom. 

Ethington paused and looked over the prai- 
rie; it was covered with the bodies of the 
slain. Horses and men lay in heaps in every 
direction; the dead and the dying were min- 
gled confusedly together. In the distance 
a few terrified fugitives were running hither 
and thither, endeavoring to conceal them- 
selves in the prairie grass, or gain the covert 
of the wood. As the excitement of the bat- 
tle passed away, a feeling of compassion 
took possession of Ethington, and he exert- ' 
ed himself manfully to stay the slaughter. 

“ Look there,” said Captain Wilson, point- 


ing upward with his bloody sword. Walter 
raised his eyes, and beheld* two* enormous 
ravens hovering over the scene of conflict,, 
with their beaks turned to the west. Wilson 
and several of the Rangers raised their guns- 
to Are at the birds poising above them. 

“ Holdl ” exclaimed the general, prophet- 
ically; “ the omen is a good one, it denotes 
the march of the empire westward I ” 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE DUEL. — ^AUGUSTUS HENRIE. 

Ethington walked slowly towards the- 
bivouac of the previous night, to which the 
soldiers, wearied of the slaughter, were re- 
turning in squads, without mucht regard to- 
order. It was now night, and’ our hero- 
thought of his appointment withi Wikoff. 
Stretching himself by a fire which the Rang- 
ers had kindled, and ordering Felix to-awak- 
en him when the moon had arisen, he was- 
soon lost in sleep, dreaming of the horrors of 
the day, and very possibly of Andrea St. 
Aubert. 

Faithful to his charge, the African awak- 
ened his master at the time designated. 
Captain Wilson was seated near him, repair- 
ing his rifie which had been somewhat int- 
jured in the fight. Ethington had already 
made him acquainted with the strange ap- 
pointment, and asked his services, which; 
were offered with that genuine, though) 
rough cordiality, which characterized th& 
honest Kentuckian. 

Provided with proper arms, they now re- 
paired to the spot indicated' by Wikoff. 
They stood by the waters of the San Jacinto- 
— waters which had quenched more than one 
life that day. Occasionally there fioated 
past them some mournful remnants of the 
fight — a hat, a cap, some fragment of a gar- 
ment, and anon a lifeless body. While Eth- 
ington gazed upon the inanimate clay, as it 
was being born onward by the current, he 
asked himself if it had ever enshrined an 
immortal soul, and if so, what was the fate 
of that soul ? He turned from it with a sigh, 
remarking: — 

“ How many that feared' death as the 
greatest evil, have found it since the sun. 
crossed the meridian! while I,, who have 
regarded it as a friend that comes to hush 
up sorrows of the feverish heart, have been 
spared! Strange that the bolts of death- 
should pass me by, and spend their force up- 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


21 


on others! Inscrutable are the ways of 
Providence.” 

The moon was looking down upon the 
Tiver with a tranquil light. The hour 
;seemed too quiet for bloodshed, and was 
better suited to meditation and serious 
thought, than to the business which had 
oalled our hero and his friend to the spot. 

Wikoff did not <make his appearance, and 
Pthington paced up and down awaiting him, 
while Wilson seated himself beneath an oak, 
thinking, doubtless, of Marianna Lee. At 
the expiration of ’half an hour, the figure of 
a man emerged. cautiously from the copse of 
trees. It was Wikoff. He ;appeared disap- 
pointed when he saw Ethington, and stood 
irresolute; but the keen eye of the ranger 
was fixed upon him, and he instantly signi- 
jfied that they were, a waiting him. 

“ So you have survived the conflict ? ” said 
Wikoff, approaching Ethington. 

‘‘ My presence seems to justify that con- 
clusion,” replied the latter, coldly. 

“ It strikes 'me that you didn’t expect to 
see him,” 'Observed the captain. 

“No 'matter what I expected,” returned 
Wikoff. “ I am here, and ready to proceed. 
Have you brought weapons ? ” 

“ I have,” answered Wilson. “ What 
•distance do you propose ? ” 

“ Twelve paces,” said Wikoff. 

“ Arrange it as you will,” added Ething- 
ton. “ It makes.no difference to me.” 

The Kentuckian now paced of the ground. 

“ On which side do you intend to place 
me ? ” asked Wikoff. 

“ Upon that nearest the river,” replied 
the ranger. 

“ And Is that a specimen of your fairness ? 
I protest against it, for my adversary will have 
all the advantage of the light. No, sir, I 
will not stand up and be shot at in that way. 
Measure the ground in another direction, or 
let me have the other side,” exclaimed Wik- 
'Off, with a scowl of disapprobation. 

“ Don’t show too much of the snappin’ 
turtle*,” said Wilson, briefly. 

“ You had better comply with his wishes,” 
.suggested Walter. 

The ground was now measured off accord- 
ing to the directions of Wikoff, and the part- 
ies now took their places. Wikoff found 
fault with the weapons which the ranger had 
brought, and concluded to use his own; and 
this was also agreed to by Ethington. Wil- 
son was to count three, and the word three 
was to be the signal to fire. 


Ethington appeared as calm as usual, and 
betrayed no anxiety for the results. He had 
beheld all the preparations unmoved, and in 
fact with total indifference. Not so with 
Wikoff; his cheeks were flushed when he 
lirst appeared, but now pale to ghastliness, 
while a sickly and sinister smile rested upon 
^ his lips. Deadly hatred and hostility were 
vividly traced in the expression of his whole 
visage. Though his arm did not shake when 
he took his stand, and the weapons were 
placed in his hands, he was evidently suffer- 
ing from some emotion, anxiety or fear. 

“ Now, gentlemen, do not fire until I have 
pronoqnced the word three,” said Wilson, 
taking a position equi-distant from the 
parties. 

“ Have you any word to leave for Andrea 
St. Aubert ?” asked Wikoff, in a sneering 
tone to Ethington. 

“ Captain Wilson, I am ready,” said Wal- 
ter, calmly. 

“Are you ready, sir?” asked Wilson, 
turning to Wikoff. 

“ All ready,” replied the latter, with the 
most sinister smile. 

“ Then, gentlemen, remember the direc- 
tions, and fire after the word three; for I 
want this thing to be done fair, and in a way 
that wouldn’t disgrace old Kentuck itself.” 

Wilson paused a moment, looked steadily 
at the parties to see how they bore them- 
selves, and then proceeded apparently well 
satisfied with the deportment of Ethington. 

“ Gentlemen, I shall now give you the 
word. Owe.” 

There was no change perceptible in the 
features or attitude of Walter; but his an- 
tagonist grew paler, if possible, and smiled 
more frightfully. 

“ Two:' 

Instantly Wikoff fired, in defiance of all 
the rules of honor, before the word three 
had been spoken. Ethington's arm fell to 
his side, the pistol dropped from his grasp, 
he tottered a step and sunk to the ground. 

With a hasty imprecation upon Wikoff, 
who turned and fled, the ranger ran to his 
friend and raised him from the earth. Wal- 
ter looked up in the face of the Kentuckian 
and smiled, and immediately became uncon- 
scious. Wilson took him in his arms and 
bore him swiftly towards the Texan encamp- 
ment, where a surgeon was hastily sum- 
moned. 

AVhen Ethington’s mind gained some- 
thing of its former lucidity, he found him- 


22 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


self in a darkened room, lying upon a com- 
fortable bed. Tie heard soft footsteps and 
whispered words, like those breathed in the 
chamber of the sick. A young lady was 
seated near his bedside, whom, upon closer 
scrutiny, he discovered to be Marianna Lee. 
Our hero was conscious of being very weak, 
and was sensible that he must have been 
very ill. He glanced silently about the 
apartment once more, but saw no familiar 
object, with the exception of the maiden. 

“ Marianna,” he said, in a feeble voice. 

Instantly a gleam of satisfaction passed 
over the face of the young lady. 


gence, gave him rather a dandyish appear- 
ance. Walter was prejudiced against the 
lad at first glance, and though he could but 
acknowledge that he was very good looking, 
he turned his eyes from him, mentally re- 
solving to notice him as little as common 
courtesy would possibly allow. 

“ To this kind youth you are indebted for 
your recovery,” said Marianna. “ It is Au- 
gustus Henrie, a cousin of mine, who„ 
though he has his eccentricities, is a very 
excellent lad at heart. I assure you, Mr. 
Ethington, his attentions have been unre- 
mitting.” 



THE DUEL— THE TREACHERY OF WIKOFF. 


“Then you remember me at last ?” she 
exclaimed. “ I am glad you are returning 
to consciousness. You have been very ill, 
and we have sometimes despaired of vour 
life.” 

“ And I am indebted to you for much good 
nursing, and probably my life,” he added. 

Marianna was about to make a reply, 
when the door opened, and a youth entered 
with light and noiseless footsteps. It need- 
ed no second look to assure him that it was 
the same that he had seen with Hidgley, 
though dressed in a different style. He 
now wore a black frock and pants, of fine 
fabric, and which fitted very neatly to his 
person, and became him well; and together 
with a light buff vest, silk neck-tie, and By- 
ron collar, all adjusted with graceful negli- . 


Ethington reluctantly turned his eyes to- 
wards the youth again. 1 

“I am very much obliged to you, my 
young friend, I am sure, and hope I may be 
permitted to acknowledge the kindness in a 
more substantial way,” lie said. 

Augustus Henrie .averted his eyes modest- 
ly, and appeared confused; but he rallied , 
immediately, and replied, with tolerable 
grace and assurance: — 

“ To tell the truth, sir, which they say 
must not be spoken at all times, I have done 
but a very little to contribute towards your 
recovery, or happiness; and to my fair cous- 
in, Marianna, you owe all your thanks.” 

Walter fixed his gaze once more upon the * 
large, dreamy eyes of Augustus, and deter- •, 
mined yet again not to like him. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


2S^ 


“ I evidently owe a debt of gratitude to 
some person or persons, and I am content to 
pay the larger share to Marianna. Will that 
do, my lad? ” 

“ I am content,” replied Augustus. But 
how is this ? I did not expect to find you 
rational. It gives me great pleasure to see 
you thus.” 

“ How long have I been ill ? ” asked Eth- 
ington, turning to Marianna. 

“The battle of San Jacinto was fought 
three days ago,” she replied. 

“ It has not seemed so many hours.” 

“ Probably not, which is a very good thing, 
as you were not sensible of your sufferings 
and danger.” 

“Have I talked very wildly? ” he asked, 
anxiously. 

“ You have talked considerably, and that 
question reminds me of what the physician 
told me — that I must not permit you to talk 
much if you should recover your conscious- 
ness. I must now enforce obedience.” 

“ I shall endeavor to submit gracefully,” 
he replied, with a faint smile; “ for to tell 
the truth, I do not feel very strong.” 

Augustus now withdrew, and Walter was 
glad to be alone again with his fair nurse. 
He remarked, still smiling: — 

“ I should like that boy better, if he were 
not so foppish.” 

“ He is a good-hearted creature,” replied 
Marianna, “ and I hope you will become very 
good friends.” 

Ethington now inquired about Captain 
Wilson, and learned that he had been wound- 
ed by a shot from an unknown marksman ; 
and that the faithful Eelix was unremitting 
in his attentions. 

Marianna would allow him to ask no more 
questions, and he was forced to content him- 
self with what information he had gained. 
Wearied with the exertion of talking, he 
sank into a refreshing sleep — the first he had 
experienced for several days. He awoke in 
the course of the ensuing night, and saw Au- 
gustus watching beside him. He took some 
medicine from his youthful attendant, and 
did not awake again until near morning, 
when the youth was still sitting by the bed 
very patiently. 

Ethington observed him for a moment 
through his half-shut lids. He was sitting 
by a small table with his elbow upon it, and 
his forehead reposing in the palm of his hand. 
His features were regular, quite pale, though 
very comely to look upon, and some stray 


ringlets of his long, black, curling hair rested 
upon his cheek. 

Despite the antipathy which Ethington 
had taken to Augustus, he was candid enough 
to admit there was something interesting and 
attractive about him, which under other cir- 
cumstances might have won his friendship; 
but he could not forget that he had twice 
seen him with Ridgley. Walter’s heart ac^- 
cused him of ingratitude. Had not this 
youth befriended him, and passed many 
sleepless hours by his couch of suffering ? 
He resolved to conquer his prejudice. 

In a kindly voice he urged the boy to re- 
tire, or allow Eelix to take his place. Aur* 
gustus assured him that he felt no weariness ^ 
but if he preferred the society of his colored 
servant, he would leave him. Ethington 
answered that he must be sadly in want of 
sleep, and under the circumstances he should 
prefer Eelix. The youth withdrew, and as 
his light and symmetrical figure disappeared, 
Walter sighed and felt that he was ungrateful 
to the kind and unpresuming lad. 

Eelix manifested unfeigned joy at the 
prospect of his master’s recovery, which he 
had hitherto despaired of, and declaring his 
fixed intention of punishing Captain Wilson 
for leading him into danger. He said he 
should “ ’spress himself freely on dat sub^ 
juck, and teach Massa Kentuck to promul- 
gate,” in a different direction. 

Ethington now learned, with much satis^ 
faction, of the capture of Santa Anna. Eelix 
described very minutely his appearance, and 
his interview with General Houston, in which 
he styled himself, in the true spirit of arro- 
gance, the “ Napoleon of the West.” 


CHAPTER VII. 

WIKOFF AND COGSWELL. 

Time passed on. April came, with it® 
showers and sunshine. It was a warm, clear 
day; the sun had passed the meridian. A 
man was standing upon the east bank of the 
Neuces River, looking thoughtfully into the 
water. Just above him, on the right, was 
a thick chapparel, and below was a broad 
strip of bottom land or interval. 

He turned slowly and walked towards the 
latter, and approaching the water, com- 
menced washing out his rifle. While he was 
thus employed, another person appeared at 
the extremity of the bottom-land, and after 
scrutinizing him for a few seconds, ad- 


24 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


vanced, though not without some hesitation. 

“Washing out your shootinMron ? ” he 
observed, when within a few yards of the 
individual first mentioned. 

“ Yes,” replied the party addressed, gruff- 
ly. “ It don’t require much penetration to 
see that.” 

“ I think I shall follow your example,” 
added the other, nothing daunted by the very 
uncourteous reply. 

“So it would seem,” replied the new- 
comer, somewhat testily. 

The other party completed his task, and 
sitting down upon the grass, observed the 
stranger with considerable interest. 

“Perhaps you belong to the Rangers?” 
he remarked, at length. 

“ Perhaps I don’t,” was the brief re- 
joinder. 

“ Did you fight at San Jacinto? ” 

“ I can’t say that I did, particularly. I 
look out for number one, principally.” 

“ That’s the rule I go upon, and I find it 
works very well. I hope you won’t be of- 
fended if I ask your name ? ” 

“ You seemed to be rather short with me 
just now, but I don’t mind telling you my 
name. I am called Cogswell.” 

“A very good name, I am sure. In re- 
turn for your politeness, I would say that 
my name is Wikoff.” 

“ Rather interesting news,” said Cogs- 
well, squinting rather comically. 

Wikoff smiled, and asked if he had long 
been in this part of the country. Cogswell 
replied that he had not. 

“ It appears somewhat singular,” added 
Wikoff, “ that you do not take part in the 
struggle now going on between the Texans 
and the Mexicans ? ” 

“ I have business enough of my own to at- 
tend to,” answered Cogswell, with a scowl. 

“ Some enemy to punish, or possibly some 
fair girl to woo,” replied Wikoff, lightly, at 
the same time watching the countenance of 
Cogswell with the greatest interest. 

“ With a quiet smile of satisfaction, he 
saw the blood rush tumultuously to his face, 
and he knew that he had touched the right 
chord at last. 

“ Stranger, you seem to be rather inquisi- 
tive, but in your last remark you was not 
far from the truth. I have an enemy to 
punish, and there is a fair maiden I would 
win.” 

“ Spoken like a brave fellow and a true 
man! ” exclaimed Wikoff, with warmth. I 


perceive that you are made of the right kind 
of material. I see plainly that we are des- 
tined to become good friends, and who knows 
but we may be of mutual service to each 
other, for I also have an enemy to punish ? ” 

“ Give us your bread-hook! ” said Cogs- 
well, with some enthusiasm. “You are a 
smart chap, and we shall get on well to- 
gether.” 

“ Yeiy happy to make your acquaintance. 
Our meeting appears to be quite providen- 
tial. I am glad you do not belong to the 
Rangers.” 

“ I hate the Rangers and the captain more 
than all.” 

“ I guess your secret; he’s your rival, 
doubtless.” 

“I own up to the charge,” responded 
Cogswell. 

“ Now this is a very singular coincidence, 
sir, for the man whom I can endure least 
of all men living, also belongs to the Rang- 
ers, or at least he is with them. The cap- 
tain’s name is Wilson, I believe.” 

“ It is.” 

“ I have met him,” continued Wikoff. 

“ He is much attached to a harum scarum 
fellow sometimes called the ‘ Texan Bravo,’ 
but whose name I think is Ethington.” 

“ That’s my man I ” said Wikoff, contract- 
ing his brows fiercely. 

“ He was wounded in a duel, I heard, and 
came near dying. Perhaps you’re the chap 
that drew trigger upon him.” 

I have no wish to deny it. I only regret 
that my aim was not better. Sit down here, 
and I will speak plainly. I once loved a 
maiden; her name was Andrea St. Aubert. 
A favorable opportunity offered, and I de- 
clared my passion. The result you have 
doubtless anticipated. I was rejected. A 
short time after, I saw her with a young 
gentleman. I inquired his name and was 
told that it was Walter Ethington, a favored 
lover. This information filled me with in- 
dignation, and I resolved to break up the 
engagement in a way that would be deeply 
humiliating to both — more especially to Eth- 
ington. I accordingly set my wits at work, 
and succeeded as well as I could have 
wished. The particulars of the plot by 
which I accomplished my purpose I will not 
at this time divulge. Grieved and mortified 
at the supposed perfidy of Andrea, Ething- 
ton came to Texas and joined in the strug- 
gle against the dictator of Mexico. 

“ When the surprise of Miss St. Aubert 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


2c. 


liad in some measure subsided, I again ven- 
tured to renew the old subject, and was more 
decidedly rejected than before. Soon after 
this event she suddenly disappeared, and it 
was rumored that she had gone to visit an 
uncle residing in Texas. Determined to 
carry my point, I immediately came hither, 
resolved that if I could not succeed in win- 
ning her affections, to be near to prevent 
any explanation between her and her lover.” 

And perhaps do more than that ? ” add- 
•ed Cogswell. 

“That is true; I would,” replied Wikoff. 
■“I cannot tolerate him; he is a serpent in 
my path. I would place my heel upon him 
and destroy him.” 

“ There is every chance for you to do so,” 
answered Cogswell. “ The Rangers are en- 
camped only a couple of miles below here, 
and he is with them. It would be easy to 
surprise him in his walks, and” 

“ I understand; but there is a colored fel- 
low with him, who scarcely ever leaves him, 
and it would be more difficult to deal with 
him than with his master.” 

“ Serve him the same way,” said Cogs- 
well. 

“And what will you do with Captain Wil- 
son ? ” asked Wikoff. 

“ Just what you would do with Ethington, 
if you had him in your power. Have you 
found this Miss St. Aubertyet ? ” 

Wikoff hesitated a moment, and then an- 
swered: — 

“I have reason to suppose that I have; 
but I will not speak of the subject at this 
time, for reasons of my own. If I have found 
her, I will keep my own secret, for the pres- 
ent. And now let us devise some method of 
carrying out our mutual wishes in regard to 
these two men, whom we consider our ene- 
mies.” 

To this proposal, Cogswell readily assen- 
ted; the two then proceeded to plan a nefa- 
rious scheme for the destruction of Ethington 
and Wilson. The conversation continued 
for a long time. The parties came to a very 
good understanding, and appeared mutually 
pleased with each other. But Wikoff was 
evidently the shrewder of the two; he had 
the deepest knowledge of human nature, 
and sufficient skill to make a mere tool of 
■Cogswell. 

When everything had been talked over 
and arranged in regard to their future pro- 
ceedings, they walked towards the spot where 
the Texan Rangers were encamped. It will 


be well for us to remark, in this place, that 
after the capture of Santa Anna, most of the 
Mexican forces had withdrawn to the west 
side of the Rio Grande; but quietness and 
order was by no means restored to the fron- 
tiers of the Lone Star. Bexar was still ha- 
rassed by marauding parties of the enemy, 
and by lawless banditti, who carried on a 
kind of guerrilla warfare, to the great annoy- 
ance of the inhabitants. The Rangers had 
accordingly been stationed there to punish 
offenders, and preserve peace and order. 
It will be.seen by the foregoing that our he- 
ro had recovered from his wounds, and had 
accompanied the party to whom he had be- 
come attached, and whose dangers he had 
shared at San Jacinto. 

As Wikoff and Cogswell neared the en- 
campment, they advanced with more cau- 
tiousness, and when they came within sight 
of it, concealed themselves from observation 
in some musquite bushes. It happened to be 
the hour in which the Rangers were wont to 
parade; accordingly they were formed and 
went through various evolutions in fine 
style, after which they practiced target 
shooting. 

Whether Wikoff and Cogswell did not ex- 
perience sensations of shame at seeing those 
brave men disciplining themselves in war- 
like arts, in order to defend their country 
and repel tyranny, we do not know; but it 
is certain that they should have felt such emo- 
tions, if their souls yet retained a single spark 
of patriotism. 

At a short distance from the company stood 
Ethington, observing their evolutions with 
interest; and near him was the faithful 
Eelix. 

“ There,” said Wikoff, pointing at the 
former, “ you behold my enemy.” 

“ And I must say that he is not a bad look- 
ing man,” replied Cogswell. “ Though I 
like him not, he has a fine figure, a pleasing 
countenance, and the reputation of being 
rashly brave — qualites which are Very likely 
to make him a dangerous rival.” 

Wikoff muttered something indistinctly 
between his teeth, and glanced indignantly 
at his new friend. 

“You do well to try to get him out of the 
way, if Andrea St. Aubert is inclined to love 
him,” added Cogswell. Wikoff bit his lip, 
and remained moodily silent. The former 
resumed: “ That straight, independent look- 
ing fellow, is the captain of the Rangers. 
He is as hateful to my sight as the ‘ Texan 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OP TEXAS. 


Bravo ’ can be to yours. He bears upon his 
person a wound of my making; may the 
second one prove more deep and deadly. 
And then” 

‘‘ The most difficult part of the business 
remains to be done,” interrupted Wikoff. 

‘‘ What is that ? ” asked Cogswell. 

“To win Marianna Lee.” 

C<? gswell sighed heavily, and gave utter- 
ance- to something that sounded like an oath; 
for lie felt the justness of the remark. 

A t that moment Felix was observed to 
leave his master’s side and walk up the 
river. He passed the spot where Wikoff 
and his ally were concealed, singing a favor- 
ite negro melody. 

“ Let us follow him,” said Wikoff, and 
the worthy pair immediately left their hid- 
ing-place, and acted upon the suggestion. 
Felix sauntered on for the distance of half a 
mile, wholly unconscious that his movements 
were watched. 

»“ Let us seize him,” added Wikoff. 

“ Agreed,” said the other; and both 
rushed upon Felix and caught him by the 
arms. He struggled violently and shook 
them off. Wikoff instantly leveled his rifle 
at the African’s head and threatened to 
shoot him, if he did not submit peaceably to 
their wishes. Felix looked at the presented 
rifle with alarm, and asked what they wanted. 

“ Come with us, and do not resist,” re- 
plied Wikoff. “Tie his hands, Cogswell, 
and if he resists, I will shoot him.” 

Cogswell took the belt which he wore 
about his waist, and approached Felix. The 
latter held out his hands, and when the form- 
er was sufllciently near, seized him with a 
powerful grasp and instantly thrust his body 
between Wikoff and himself. 

“ Fire, massa debbil; go yer de’thi ” cried 
Felix, while he made a shield of Cogswell, 
who struggled in vain to free himself from 
the strong arms which held him. This 
demonstration on the part of the negro put 
Wikoff in a rage, and he would gladly have 
shot him, could he have done so without 'dan- 
ger to Cogswell; but he could not, and it 
was in vain that he tried. 

“ Knock him over the head with the butt 
of your rifle; crack his skull I ” exclaimed 
Cogswell. 

“ ’Spress yerself ; promulgate,” said Felix, 
watching the movements of Wikoff atten- 
tively, who, resolved to follow Cogswell’s 
advice, now cautiously approached the negro 
with his weapon raised. 


The moment came for which Felix had 
waited; he raised his great fist, dashed Cogs- 
well to the earth, and with a shout sprang 
upon Wikoff. With his left hand he arrested 
the descending weapon, and with the other 
struck a tremendous blow against Wikoff’s 
forehead, who fell down like an ox stricken 
with a butcher’s axe. 

“ Go it, white folksl Yah, yahl Heah, 
heahl ” 

The next moment a “ cullud inder- 
vidooal,” resembling Felix more than any 
other person, was seen running very rapidly 
towards the camp of the Rangers. 

When Wikoff and Cogswell recovered 
somewhat from the shock which they had 
received, they raised themselves slowly upon 
their elbows and gazed lugubriously into the 
faces of each other. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

ANDREA ST. AUBEBT.— THE RING. 

If the reader will consent to accompany 
us to San Antonio de Bexar, we will make 
him more intimately acquainted with char- 
acters who have hitherto been kept in the 
back-ground, or only casually noticed. 

We are informed upon credible authority 
that the only places occupied by a white 
population in 1821, were the Spanish posts 
of San Antonio, Nocadoches and Goliad, 
comprising in all about three thousand in- 
habitants. Not long after, in consequence 
of the inducements held out to settlers, there 
was an extraordinary influx of emigrants 
from the United States. 

Many of those who sought homes in the 
new country carried with them slaves. Mr. 
Ridgley was among the early emigrants from 
the great republic. He had settled in San 
Antonio, and accumulated a handsome prop- 
erty by industry and attention to business. 

It is known that in 1832 the people of 
Texas formed a State Constitution, and tried 
to obtain from the Mexican Congress an ad- 
mission into the confederacy, as an inde- 
pendent State. The refusal resulted in an 
appeal to arms, and after that period, San 
Antonio de Bexar had but little rest and 
tranquility; it was subject to continual 
alarms and invasions from the enemy, and 
fell into their possession several times. 

Mr. Ridgley, having taken an active part 
in the war policy, was obliged on severall 
occasions to seek safety in flight, and bore- 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


2T 


arms against the invaders more than once. 
When the enemy were driven out, he re- 
turned to look after his affairs and repair 
damages; for war always leaves an imprint 
of his destroying hand upon everything 
which falls in his way. 

Mr. Ridgley owned an elegant mansion at 
San Antonio, which had miraculously es- 
caped destruction during all the vicissitudes 
of the sanguinary struggle, and we now find 
him occupying it with his family. 

It was evening of the day succeeding the 
events of the last chapter. A gentle moon 
and bright silvery stars illuminated the arch 
of the overhanging skies. Two young ladies 
were walking arm-in-arm in the garden at- 
tached to Mr. Ridgley’s establishment. 
Both were a little above the medium height, 
well-formed and bore a striking resemblance 
to each other. One was Andrea St. Aubert 
—our heroine — and the other, her cousin 
Rosalia, Mr. Ridgley’s only daughter. 

‘‘ If I thought,” said Andrea, looking tim- 
idly at her companion, “that I have over- 
stepped the bounds of maidenly reserve and 
modesty, I should indeed be deeply mor- 
tified.” 

“ My fair cousin,” replied Rosalia, earn- 
estly, “ highly endowed as you are with good 
sense and noble sentiments, it is quite impos- 
sible that you should or could have done aught 
to cause you a single sigh of regret or blush 
of shame. It is said that each of us has an 
angel, and that he keeps a record of all our 
worthy actions, and I am sure there has been 
something good accredited to you by his 
pen long before this hour — those very deeds 
which you are now disposed to blush and cry 
about.” 

A tear of gratitude moistened the dark 
eyes of Andrea; she pressed her friend’s 
hand in silence. 

“ Had I been placed in your circumstances, 
my cousin, I should have attempted to do 
just what you accomplished so nobly. You 
have a deep conviction that there has been 
a cruel misunderstanding on the part of — 
of” 

“ Walter,” added Andrea, softly. 

“On the part of Walter,” said Rosalia; 
“ resulting from the jealousy or malice of 
some person unknown. As your conscience 
acquits you of giving any real cause of 
offense, you have felt it your duty to be 
friendly to him still, and learn, if possible, 
the reason of his strange desertion of one so 
dear as you must have been to him; for I 


believe that few young gentlemen could see 
you without ” 

“Hush, Rosalia; don’t flatter me,” said 
Andrea, blushing. 

“ You have learned that he still loves you, 
though fully of the opinion that you were 
false to your professions of attachment. In 
the hour of your bitter disappointment, you 
came hither to find what consolation you 
might in my friendship; that was not wrong, 
certainly. Soon after you learned, by va- 
rious ways and means, that your false lover 
was here, fighting in the Texan army with 
rash daring, seeking death in the thickest of 
the fight, doing prodigies of valor, and prov- 
identially escaping unharmed on most occa- 
sions. All that was done afterwards took 
place with my approval, and the consent of 
my father, your uncle ; for he said, ‘ it was a 
pity that two young persons who loved each 
other, should be separated by a slight mis- 
understanding.’ Believing as he does in 
your innocence, be assured that he is too 
proud and noble to compromise you, in any 
manner whatever; and if the truth were 
known, has been rather severe with Ething- 
ton than otherwise. I am certain that he 
required your lover to return and ask pardon 
upon his knees.” 

“I am sure he ought to,” replied Andrea, 
with a smile. 

“ And I will predict that he will, when the 
truth is known,” added Rosalia. 

“ Harkl ” said Andrea. “ I thought I 
heard some one climbing over the wall.” 

“ Where ? ” asked Rosalia. 

“There — in that direction,” answered 
Andrea. 

“ Let us walk towards the spot,” said the 
other. 

“ No; let us retire to the house,” rejoined 
her cousin; but Rosalia drew her along 
with gentle force towards the spot indicated. 

“ Don’t be alarmed, fair ladies,” said a 
voice. “ Pardon this intrusion.” The fig- 
ure of a tall man emerged from the shrub- 
bery which grew by the wall, and stood be- 
fore the two girls. He lifted his hat and 
bowed very low. 

“ Come away,” whispered Andrea to her 
companion. 

“ What is your wish, sir ? ” asked Ros- 
alia. 

“To speak a few words with Miss St. Au- 
bert,” said the intruder. “ Will you do me* 
the favor to retire a moment, that I may ad*- 
dress her alone ? ” 


28 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“No, sir, I will not; she has no secrets 
that she would keep from me. If you have 
aught to say, speak on, or leave us in- 
■stantly.” 

“You are pleased to be severe with me,” 
«aid the man. 

“ Do you know this rude person ? ” asked 
.Rosalia, turning to Andrea. 

“ His voice sounds familiar. I should say 
that I had met him somewhere; but if so, I 
have no desire to renew the acquaintance,” 
replied Andrea with a slight shudder. 

“You hear what Miss St. Aubert says,” 
added Rosalia, firmly. 

“I do,” returned Wikoff, with another 
bow. “ I once presumed to speak to Miss St. 
Aubert on a certain subject. She was 
pleased to discourage my hopes, and I sub- 
mitted to my fate as best I might. Since 
that time I have struggled on with my un- 
happy passion, and I trust I shall overcome 
iit; at least I shall trouble her no more with 
the recital of my love; it were a useless task, 
and painful withal, and I came not hither to 
speak of it. I came here to bid her adieu 
forever.” 

“ It is Wikoff I ” exclaimed Andrea, trem- 
bling violently. 

“Yes, it is that unhappy man,” sighed 
Wikoff. “ Suffer me to kneel but one mo- 
ment at your feet, to press your hand one 
moment to my lips, and then you will be 
spared the pain of meeting me again in this 
world of vicissitude and suffering.” 

While Wikoff was speaking, he advanced 
•quickly, caught the hand of Andrea and 
sank upon his knees, pressed it hastily to 
.his lips, and seemed loth to relinquish it. 

“ Go, sir, go,” cried Andrea, much dis- 
turbed at this unlooked-for demonstration. 
“ Leave me, I entreat of you, and never 
let me behold you again; your presence 
makes me miserable; I cannot be happy 
near you.” 

Wikoff released her hand, and arose from 
his bumble posture, while our heroine clung 
nervously to Rosalia for support. 

“ Duty to God and to you. Miss St. Au- 
bert, prompts me to say a few words more 
before I tear myself from your presence for- 
ever. There is a certain person — I will not 
speak his name in your pure ears — once fav- 
ored with some portion of your regard, who 
now vilifies your name, and speaks it and 
causes it to be spoken where it should not be 
heard. I have heard the name of An- 
drea St. Aubert coupled with the rude 


jest and ribald song of yonder camp, and my 
blood has boiled to punish the villain.” 

“You mean Walter Ethington! ” cried 
Andrea, in tones of real anguish. “You 
speak falsely — it cannot be — it is not his 
nature.” 

“Alas I” said Wikoff, solemnly, “how 
prone is the trusting heart to deception. 
Ear be it from me to disturb your tranquility 
of mind, or trample upon the hopes which 
you still fondly cherish. Time will test my 
friendship and truth, though it cannot heal 
the wounds of a broken heart. I could have 
wished, and have wished, and do wish that 
this man whom you have deigned to love, 
were more deserving of your affections. He 
deserted you basely — most basely — and 
seemed insensible of the happiness of being 
beloved by an angel.” 

Wikoff paused, passed his hands suddenly 
across his eyes, and then added still more 
impressively : — 

“ Had this young man been worthy of 
you, I could have resigned all hope of win- 
ning your affections with half the eternal 
strife it is costing me; but let that pass; the 
ways of Heaven are inscrutable. Peerless 
Andrea, idol of my soul, I bid you adieu.” 

Wikoff bowed once more, and turning 
quickly, disappeared from view. 

“ Courage,” said Rosalia, supporting An- 
drea, who was nearly unconscious, so much 
had she been agitated by this strange scene. 
“ He has gone — we are alone.” 

“ Forgive this weakness,” said Andrea. 
“ The sight of that man makes me miserable. 
I instinctively shrink from him; he terrifies 
me; he is evil; I know it by intuition.” 

The young ladies now walked slowly to- 
wards the house, Rosalia striving to re-as- 
sure and comfort her friend with gentle and 
hopeful words. Soon after entering the par- 
lor, Andrea discovered that the ring she had 
worn on the third finger of her left hand was 
no longer there. She communicated the 
fact to Rosalia, remarking that it was the 
only article in her possession which had be- 
longed to Ethington. 

“ Wikoff took your left hand,” said Ros- 
alia. 

“ And he has taken the ring,” replied An- 
drea; “for I surely had it upon my finger 
when I went into the garden.” 

In this opinion. Miss Ridgley fully con- 
curred ; she had observed that the ring was 
rather large, and could easily be slipped off. 
This circumstance caused our heroine much 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 




pain, for she highly valued the ring, and 
knew not what use Wikoff might make of it; 
and indeed she was not a little vexed at his 
presumption in daring to possess himself of it 
in such a manner. 

While she was reflecting upon this subject, 
Mr. Ridgley made his appearance, bringing 
news of considerable importance. He had 
heard that there were a large number of 
Mexicans flitting up and down the Neuces 
River, watching for an opportunity to plun- 
der San Antonio de Bexar. 

“ But the Texan Rangers are encamped 
near us,” said Rosalia. Are they not suffi- 
ciently strong to defend the place ? ” 

“ They are but a handful of men, although 
their number has been doubled since the 
battle of San Jacinto, and the enemy is said 
to exceed them greatly numerically — two to 
one, at least,” replied Ridgley. “ They are 
stimulated by the hope of plunder, and will 
fight better, probably, than Mexicans are 
wont without this powerful incentive. I had 
hoped that since the decisive affair at San 
Jacinto, we should have peace; but it would 
seem that we are doomed to disappointment. 
We have now to deal with what appears a 
lawless banditti, having no other aim than 
bloodshed and indiscriminate plunder.” 

‘‘We must trust in the Rangers, my dear 
uncle,” said Andrea. 

“And in God,” added Ridgley, solemnly. 

“Was it not stipulated by Santa Anna, 
that all his forces should withdraw to the 
west side of the Rio Grande ? ” asked Ros- 
alia. 

“ It was; and the promise has been in a 
measure fulfilled; but those who are now 
hovering about Bexar, like hungry wolves, 
care little for stipulations and agreements; 
they know no law but their own wills. They 
respect no governments, either human or 
divine, and their masters are their own un- 
restrained desires. If they would come out 
and attack us boldly, we should fear them 
but little, and have no great difficulty in de- 
fending our own ; but they will watch their 
time and fall upon us like thieves in the 
night.” 

“ Is the danger then so great ? ” continued 
Rosalia. 

“ I would not alarm you unnecessarily, but 
leave you to draw your own inferences from 
what I have stated.” 

Soon after this conversation the family re- 
tired, each unusually thoughtful^ and anxious 
for the future. 


CHAPTER IX. 

AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.— OUR HERO A 
PRISONER. 

Walter Ethington was considerably 
surprised when Felix returned and related 
his adventure with Wikoff and Cogswell^ 
whom he described as accurately as possible;, 
and our hero was not much at a loss to de- 
termine who they were, and the object they 
had in view. Some portion of Walter’s 
misanthropy had worn off, and he was heart- 
ily glad that his faithful friend had escaped 
so well. He strongly advised him to be care- 
ful in his future walks, always to go armed ^ 
and never venture out of sight of the camp. 
He requested Felix to relate the affair to Cap- 
tain Wilson, and both agreed that Cogswell 
and Wikoff must have been the parties con- 
cerned, and that some mischief was evidently 
in progress, which it was their duty to guard 
against by every rational means. 

“ Both of them have sought to take our 
lives,” said Wilson, “in an underhand and 
unmanly way. Cogswell was, no doubt, the 
unseen marksman who wounded me after 
the battle of San Jacinto, and Wikoff acted 
the coward and the assassin by firing before 
the word was given; a circumstance which, 
came near proving fatal to you. I do not 
believe the story of his being a successful ri- 
val. If his suit had prospered with Andrea 
St. Aubert, why should he be here, and why 
wish to destroy you ? Depend upon it, he 
is a disappointed man; for success does not 
produce revengeful feelings. Look at the 
case of Cogswell; Marianna did not favor 
him so much as she did me. He perceived 
that he was loosing ground, and that I was 
rising in the esteem of Marianna in propor- 
tion. You know the result; he has sought 
my life ever since with as much zeal as Saul 
sought the life of David. Now these two 
fellows — Cogswell and Wikoff — are equally 
mated; they are both consummate villains,, 
and it is our duty to keep our eyes open and 
not let them have it all their own way.” 

“I coincide with you in much that you- 
have said,” replied Walter. 

“ It’s my settled conviction,” added Wil- 
son, “that this person who calls himself 
Wikoff is the cause of all your misfortunes. 
If time proves me wrong, then I will give up 
all claims to being an alligator from Old Ken- 
tuck.” 

“ You mean well, Captain Wilson,” an- 
swered Ethington, but he added with a faint 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


/SO 


smile, and extending his hand to the captain, 
“ we will continue the subject at another 
time.” 

“ Felix,” said the latter, when Ethington 
had walked away. 

“ Here’s dis nigger,” said Felix. 

“ Do you know what caused this fatal mis- 
understanding between your master and 
Miss St. Aubert?” 

“ Yes, sare, I do’sen’t know,” replied Fe- 
lix, gravel3\ 

“ I like your master, Felix, and wish to 
make him more happy, if possible. If you 
know anything about this affair, don’t be 
afraid to tell me.” 

“ ’Twouldn’t be safe, massa cap’en.” 

“ Nonsense, speak out.” 

“ He cotched her walking in de garden 
wid anudder feller, I b’lieve, and dey ’peared 
mighty fond ob each udder, cried and kissed 
when dey parted.” 

“ Well, go on, Felix.” 

“ Dat’s all, Massa Kentuck; couldn’t 
’spress myself more ’tickerly on that sub- 
jeck.” 

“ So that caused all the mischief.” 

“ Ob course.” 

“Go to the d II” 

“ I’se jest agwine. I’ll take yer compli- 
ments along. Yah, yahl Heah, heahl ” 

“ Y'ou’re a great nigger, Felix,” added the 
captain , good-naturedly. You’re worth your 
weight in gold.” 

“Go it, Massa Kentuck, promulgate, 
’spress your phelinXj heah, heah,” and Felix 
left the captain, not a little flattered by his 
off-hand though rather dubious compli- 
ments. 

The Texan Rangers were encamped but a 
short distance from San Antonio, and late 
on the evening of the following day Ething- 
ton walked into the town. As he passed 
from street to street, his thoughts recurred 
to the past, more especially to his recent ad- 
ventures in the land of the “ Lone Star,” his 
various extraordinary escapes, and the kind- 
ness which he had received on several occa- 
sions from strangers. He recollected the 
features of the gentle Marianna, and of the 
strange lad Augustus Henrie, who, with the 
former, had watched over him in hours of 
pain and unconsciousness. 

The antipathy which he had felt towards 
the youth, in a measure subsided before he 
had parted with him at Mr. Lee’s; but he 
was still inclined to look upon him as a vain, 
effeminate lad, who would never attain to 


any great degree of manliness, and who wai 
more fitted by nature to the employments of 
the other sex than those of his own. 

The reason of this will be more apparent 
when it is announced that our hero had al- 
ways entertained a supreme contempt for 
effeminate youngsters, and dandyism in gen- 
eral; but we will not do him the injustice to 
lose sight of the fact that Walter — despite all 
his previous prejudices — was really attracted 
towards Augustus, and if he did not abso- 
lutely like him, he at least pitied what he 
considered his want of manlier qualities, and 
now when separated from him, felt the loss 
of his society sensibly, much more than he 
could have anticipated. 

While Ethington thus mused, time flew 
on unheeded. The night had been made 
pleasant b}’^ a bright moon, but of a sudden 
dark clouds rolled up into the skies and ob- 
scured its beauty. 

But Walter was conscious of no change 
in the surrounding elements; looking in- 
tently within he had not observed the 
changes going on without. Having no de- 
sire for human companionship, he seated 
himself upon a bench in a sort of square or 
plaza^ near the centre of the town. The 
place was quiet and the solitude pleased 
him. The stillness of the spot and the pen- 
sive character of his meditations soon had 
their effect, and in a little time Walter was 
in the misty land of dreams. 

He was awakened at length by the dis- 
charge of fire-arms, and loud and continued 
shouting. He sprang to his feet, at loss, 
for a moment, to account for what he heard; 
then the sharp crack of the Texan rifles 
reached his ears, and he divined at once that 
the town had been attacked by Mexican 
banditti. 

The confusion, and firing, and outcries, 
rapidly increased. Guided by the sounds, 
Ethington hurried towards the scene of 
tumult. In leaving the camp he had not 
neglected to take his pistols, and he now 
congratulated himself that he had done so. 

While he was dashing up one of the prin- 
cipal streets to mingle with the combatants, 
he heard shrieks and cries for assistance, 
proceeding from a dwelling which he was 
passing. He paused, saw lights flashing 
frpm the windows, heard voices and the 
sound of rapid footsteps within. 

To run through the open gate and enter 
the open door was the work of a moment. 
Without hesitation he mounted the stairs, 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


81 


still directed by the outcries, and the noise 
the struggle going on above. Passing 
through a dimly lighted chamber, he entered 
one perfectly dark. As he crossed the 
threshold, the light from the adjoining 
apartment fell upon the figure of a tall man 
bearing a female in his arms; and as the lat- 
ter struggled to regain her liberty and cried 
for help, it furnished sufficient proof that all 
was not right. Ethington therefore coolly 
knocked the man down, with the butt of a 
pistol, and caught the female from his arms. 
The instant the aggressor fell to the floor, 
another party darted from the room, and 
ran hastily down-stairs. 

Walter bore his now nearly unconscious 
burden to the light. He looked into her 
face; her eyes met his, she uttered a faint 
cry and became insensible; it was Andrea 
St. Aubert. 

“ Strange fatality I ” exclaimed Walter, 
gazing flxedly at the fair object once so 
greatly beloved. “ Unhappy chance that 
brings us again together.” 

Heavy, hurried steps were now heard up- 
on the stairs, and Ridgley dashed into the 
chamber, considerably excited, and judging 
from his disordered dress, fresh from a scuf- 
fle of some kind. He paused suddenly when 
he beheld Ethington, and seemed con- 
founded. 

Our hero was the first to recover himself. 

“ I believe I was in time to be of some 
service to this young lady,” he stammered. 
“ What'has happened ? ” he asked, still con- 
fused and embarrassed, and placing Miss St. 
Aubert, who now showed signs of returning 
animation, in an easy-chair. 

“ I thank you in the name of Andrea,” 
replied Ridgley. “ Where is Rosalia ? ” 

“ I have seen no other female,” said Eth- 
ington. At that instant there was a great 
crash in the next room. Ridgley caught the 
lamp from the table and ran in. The cause 
of the noise was soon discovered; the man 
whom Walter had knocked down had re- 
covered his senses and made his escape by 
leaping through the window. Rosalia had 
fainted at the moment of Walter’s appear- 
ance, and was found in the apartment un- 
harmed, though very much terrified. She 
regained her courage instantly upon seeing 
her father, and hastened to minister to Ai^ 
drea. 

“ The danger has passed, I believe, of 
whatever nature it might have been,” said 
the young man. “ I hear the sound of con- 


flict near us, and I will therefore hasten to 
join my brave companions.” 

“ Our house has been assailed by ruflians,” 
replied Ridgley. “ You have rendered me 
an important service, which I shall bo sure 
to remember. The object of this attack I 
scarcely know, for I have not yet had time 
to collect my thoughts.” 

Without trusting himself to look again 
at Andrea, Ethington descended the stairs. 
The door was still open as he found it, but 
upon the steps lay the body of a man, ap- 
parently dead. Walter bent over him, 
looked at the face, and felt quite sure that it 
was Wikoff; but wishing to be quite certain 
of his identity, he entered the parlor where 
a lamp was burning, and returning with it, 
examined the features. 

He was correct in his first impressions; it 
was indeed Wikoff. One hand lay across his 
breast, and upon the fourth finger sparkled a 
ring of uncommon brilliancy, as the rays of 
the lamp fell upon it. Ethington could not 
repress an exclamation of surprise, as his 
eyes rested upon the ornament, for he re- 
cognized it; he had once given it to Miss St. 
Aubert. How came it upon the finger of 
this man ? was the first question that crossed 
the track of his thoughts. 

Wikoff’s chest heaved convulsively, and 
he gave signs of returning life. Walter 
dashed the lamp upon the ground with a 
muttered imprecation, and with a frowning 
brow walked hastily from the spot. 

“ Perhaps,” he said, “ he received the 
wounds in defence of Andrea; perhaps she 
placed the ring upon his finger with her own 
hand.” And the thought nearly maddened 
him. 

It is a singular fact that lovers always look 
at the dark side of the picture, and that 
which is really the most unreasonable ap- 
pears the most reasonable to their distorted 
fancies. There were other inferences which 
Ethington might have drawn upon finding 
Wikoff in that vicinity, badly and perhaps 
fatally wounded, but his mind, morbidly 
active in conjuring up images to make him- 
self miserable, was satisfied with its first 
conclusions, and so made no effort to ex- 
plain the matter in any other way. 

Feeling more wretched and tired of the 
world than he had for a long time before, he 
hastened to the spot where the shouting and 
firing were still heard. He was soon among 
the combatants, fighting with all his accus- 
tomed daring and bravery. 


32 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


Suddenly he was prostrated by a blow 
upon the head. He knew no more of the 
fight; he heard no longer the loud ringing 
voice of Wilson, or the crack of the Texan 
rifles. It was broad daylight before he was 
again conscious of existence. He found 
himself lying on the ground, bound hand 
and foot. Around him lay several Mexicans 
wrapped up in their blankets, sleeping. He 
attempted to lise to a sitting posture, but 
could not. The bands upon his wrists gave 
him intense pain, and he felt very faint and 
miserable. He reconnoitered the spot as 
well as he could in a horizontal position, and 
perceived that they were surrounded on 
all sides by a dense chapparel. At a short 
distance was a tent, and judging by the 
sounds that occasionally came from it, Eth- 
ington concluded that it contained wounded 
men. 

Though suffering much pain, our hero 
was forced to lie unnoticed for two hours, 
when a man came from the tent and ap- 
proached him. He was not a little aston- 
ished at seeing the individual who now 
stood before him, for in him he recognized 
Cogswell, the lover of Marianna Lee. He 
was industriously smoking a cigarillo^ and 
contemplated the prostrated figure of our 
hero with the calmest satisfaction. 

Ethington asked him to loosen the cords a 
little, as his limbs were now considerably 
swollen; but Cogswell declined to comply 
with this reasonable request, assuring him 
that if he were to do anything in the prem- 
ises, he should make his bands tighter. 

“Miserable renegade 1 ” exclaimed Eth- 
ington, indignantly. “ I should have known 
that a creature who will fight against his 
countrymen, will not show common human- 
ity towards a fellow-being.” 

“ Here comes a gentleman who will doubt- 
less entertain you more agreeably than I 
can,” replied Cogswell, with a sneer. 

Ethington turned his eyes with diflSculty 
towards the person indicated, and saw his 
antagonist in the late duel at San Jacinto. 
His head was bound up with a handkerchief, 
and he was deadly pale from loss of blood. 

“ Well, sir, you are not with the Rangers 
now,” said Wikoff. 

“ It is quite unnecessary to inform me of 
that fact,” replied Ethington. “ It is very 
evident that I am not among men of 
honor.” 

“ Hid you ever see this ring before ? ” 
asked Wikoff, holding up his finger. 


“ I saw you lying senseless upon the 
ground last night,” retorted Walter. “ You 
were in my power, but I scorned to take 
advantage of your helpless condition.” 

“You were very humane,” rejoined Wik- 
off, changing color. “ But what do you say 
of this ring ? ” 

“ Perhaps you purloined it; I don’t know;, 
a man without honor is capable of any 
meanness. If Miss St. Aubert bestowed it 
upon you, she was certainly very unfortu- 
nate in the choice of a friend. But you 
have yet to explain the cause of being found 
insensible upon the door-steps of the house 
where the lady resides.” 

“ That has little to do with our present 
business. Suffice it that you have always 
been in my way, and were so last night; but 
it shall soon be beyond your power to mar 
my plans or baflaie my purposes. Look up- 
at the sun; it never shone more brilliantly; 
gaze your fill and say farewell, for you will 
never see it rise again.” 

“ Hare you then lift your hand against my 
life ? ” 

“ The ‘ Texan Bravo ’ shrinks from the 
ordeal I I thought it was death that he was 
seeking ? ” 

“ I fear not death, when met honorably; 
but I never sought it at the hand of a vil- 
lain who would make my demise the mean& 
of carrying out his nefarious schemes, aud 
bringing down ruin upon others. I can die 
like a man; but remember that the Texan 
rifles will avenge my death. Perhaps you 
never saw one of the Rangers look through 
the double sights ? ” 

Wikoff grew a shade paler, and Cogswell 
shrugged his shoulders significantly at the 
mention of the “ double sights.” Both 
knew the fatal significance of the words, for 
the sharpshooting of the Rangers was prov- 
erbial; and it is a well-known fact that great 
numbers of the enemy who were left on the 
field in various battles were shot through the 
head. 

Wikoff and Cogswell now walked away to- 
gether, while one of the Mexicans, more hu- 
mane than they, loosened the cords about his 
limbs, which gave him. great relief. Presently 
there was considerable bustle in the camp. 
The soldiers (if we may thus call them) were 
goj under arms by their leader, the identical 
Captain Garcia, who had led an attack against 
Ethington and his two friends on the Col- 
orado. 

Our hero’s feet were now set at liberty, ai^d 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


33 


he was marched out in front of the marshaled 
band by a file of men. Ethington understood 
these preparations well; it was evident that 
he was about to be shot, and he endeavored 
to compose his mind, and fix his last earthly 
thoughts on the only Being who could now 
assist and sustain him. 

In the brief space that was allowed him 
for meditation, he reflected upon the stormy 
events that had been crowded into his life 
since he had left his native State, a reckless 
and hopeless man. As he could discern in 
the portents of the future no brightening of 
the sun of his destiny, he resigned himself to 
his fate without a murmur. Although ex- 
istence had no charms for him, and he had 
often sought death, yet he could not but feel 
and confess to himself that he was not whol- 
ly prepared for the great change which 
awaited him. 

The near prospect of dissolution brought 
with it clearer views of man and his duties. 
He began to doubt whether misanthropy was 
not a crime in the sight of God, and if the 
last few months of his life had not been sin- 
ful in the extreme. But there was now 
little opportunity to discuss such questions; 
he stood face to face with those selected to 
be his executioners — a band of lawless and 
savage-looking fellows, apparently dead to all 
the finer susceptibilities of human nature. 

A man now came forward with a handker- 
chief to bandage his eyes, but Ethington 
shook his head, saying proudly: — 

“ I have often faced death, and I am not 
afraid to face it once more. It is the coward 
soul alone that shrinks from beholding the 
terrors of death.” 

“ Proud to the last,” murmured Wikoff, 
who had approached and stood contemplat- 
ing our hero with a triumphant expression. 

“ And were you so presumptuous as to 
imagine for a moment that you would see 
my spirit unbend, and my manliness give 
way ? ” exclaimed Walter, who overheard the 
remark. “ I know that such was your hope 
and expectation, but both were vain. I 
shall die as I have lived — a man. I am 
ready.” 

The file of men retreated a few paces, and 
left Ethington alone — a mark for the escope- 
tas of a cowardly foe. He drew himself up 
and looked at them without flinching. Cogs- 
well reappeared and spoke a few words to 
Wikoff, and the latter conversed with Garcia 
in a low voice. 

The conversation, debate, or council, or 


whatever its nature might have been, lasted 
some time, and was carried on with much 
warmth. 

The sun was high in the heavens, and 
shone down upon the parties with glorious 
brightness. The winds breathed gently 
among the flowers, and dallied with the un- 
dulating grass that grew upon the plateau. 
But in the air, and among the flowers, and 
the grass, and everything that whispered of 
life and beauty, there was a savor of death. 


CHAPTER X. 

COGSWELL AND MARIANNA.— A LOVE 
SCENE. 

We will now return to Marianna, whom 
we shall find comfortably domiciled at San 
Antonio de Bexar, Mr. Lee having disposed 
of his property at San Jacinto, and removed 
to a small estate which he owned at the 
place we have mentioned. Marianna re- 
joiced at this change of residence for several 
reasons; and one of the most prominent was, 
that she hoped to escape the society of Cogs- 
well, whom she disliked and feared. 

It was the evening of the day upon which 
Wikoff and Cogswell met for the first time. 
Marianna Lee was the sole occupant of a 
small apartment fronting upon the street, 
while the other members of the household 
were either not within doors, or busy in 
another part of the house. 

There was a heavy tread upon the steps, 
and soon a gentle knock upon the door. 
Marianna hastened to answer the summons, 
and met Cogswell upon the threshold. The 
blood forsook her cheeks, her heart beat 
faster, and it was with difficulty that she 
could restrain her emotions. Cogswell en- 
tered with the determined air of one who is 
resolved upon some important measure, and 
does not mean to falter in its execution. 

His features never looked more repulsive 
and forbidding to Marianna, and she heartily 
wished the interview at an end. She was 
about to call her mother, when her quondam 
lover requested her to be seated and hear 
what he had to communicate. She reluct- 
antly complied, and Cogswell mustered all 
his eloquence and ingenuity to make a final 
impression upon her heart. Vain attempt! 
Useless expenditure of words! 

“ You have long known. Miss Lee,” he 
began, “that I have - '‘Utui-ed to raise my 


THE TEXAN BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


M 


tnoiights to you, and to come to the point at 
once, that I entertain a sincere affection for 
you. I have now called to hear, from your 
own lips, the decision of my fate. To be 
brief and plain — for I am a man of few 
words— will you become Mrs. Cogswell ? ” 

“ To be brief and plain, I decline,” replied 
Marianna, firmly. 

“May I ask your reasons?” continued 
Cogswell, with assumed calmness. 

“ There are many, Mr. Cogswell — I need 
not enumerate them — spare me that task, 
suffice it that there is a want of congeniality 
of disposition and temperament,” said Mari- 
anna, in as gentle a manner as possible. 

“ Could not that objection be overcome — 
be melted away by time ? ” 

“ I think not; I can extend no such hope; 
it were wrong to do so.” 

“ I can well guess the cause,” said Cogs- 
well, with much bitterness. “ It is because 
I have a rival. Captain Wilson has stolen 
away the regard which you once entertained 
for me, and your blushes are my witnesses 
that I speak the truth.” 

“ The person you have named never in- 
jured you in my estimation,” returned Mari- 
anna, with some asperity of manner. “ I 
regret to be forced to tell you that I never 
entertained any deeper sentiments of friend- 
€hip than I now do.” 

“ And that is saying but little, I suppose,” 
lie retorted, giving his fair auditor a search- 
ing glance. 

“You are right, sir. There is no recipro- 
city between us. I should not make choice 
of one like you for a friend, much less for a 
lover. Do not be offended; you have wrung 
this confession from me. Learn wisdom; 
when a maiden says ‘ nay,’ do not press her 
further, that you may enjoy some portion of 
her respect, if not her love. This subject, I 
■now hope, is put to rest forever, and you 
will do me a kindness never to allude to it 
.again, in any manner.” 

“You deceive yourself. Miss Lee; you 
have mistaken my character; your pervers- 
ity does not discourage me. It is time that 
you should know me better; if you cannot 
love me, I will at least teach you to fear me. 
I have a power over you and your lover 
which you do not dream of.” 

“ And do you threaten those who find it 
impossible to love you ? ” exclaimed Mari- 
anna, with dignity. 

“I was saying that I had a power over 
your fortunes which you do not know of, or 


comprehend,” he added, knitting his brows. 

“ And if you have this power you speak 
of, will you use it against a youthful 
maiden ? ” 

“ I will I I call Heaven and earth to wit- 
ness that I will I ” cried Cogswell, angrily. 
“ You fiatter yourself, like others, that you 
are safe here; that the Texan Rangers can 
defend the place against the attacks of the 
enemy.” 

“ Banditti, you should have said,” inter- 
rupted Marianna. 

“ Call them what you will; I care not; the 
fact stands the same. The destruction of 
San Antonio de Bexar is decided upon; be- 
fore many days it will be heap of steaming 
ruins.” 

“If anything were wanting,” retorted 
Marianna, with burning cheek and flashing 
eye, “ to make me regard you with deeper 
loathing and contempt, it was what you have 
now uttered. Above all things I despise a 
traitor 1 ” 

“ That is bitter language,” said Cogswell, 
biting his lips. 

“ Let us part now; relieve me of your 
presence, I beg of you,” responded the 
maiden, rising. 

“ Hear me out.” 

“ No, I had rather see you out.” 

“You are witty at my expense; but my 
turn will come anon. Who will be your pro- 
tector when Bexar is wrapped in flames, and 
its streets are full of bloodthirsty men to pU- 
lage and destroy ? ” 

“ I pray Heaven I may not be so much 
deserted by God as to accept protection from 
a traitor. I would sooner share the fate of 
the Alamo,” said Marianna, with spirit. 

“ Listen. Just beyond the Rio Grande is 
a beautiful rancho^ of which I am to be mas- 
ter. You have only to say a word to be its 
mistress, and San Antonio shall not be 
harmed. And more than this, Wilson’s life 
shall be spared.” 

“ Go, sirl I will make no terms. If all 
your allies are like yourself, San Antonio will 
never be conquered. As for Captain Wil- 
son, if he cannot defend himselMnd^main- 
tain his position, it will be because he has 
forgotten San Jacinto.” 

“ I perceive that you love to talk of San 
Jacinto; it gives you pleasure. But remem- 
ber my words, the time draws near, San 
Antonio will burn — will become a heap of 
ashes, and the rangers shall be swept away 
with the besom destruction. Reflect one 


THE TEXAN BKAYO; OE, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


85 


instant; will you prevent this awful 
calamity ? ” 

“ Shall I light you out, or will you force 
me to speak to my father ? ’’ 

Cogswell trembled with rage, and with a 
muttered curse and frowning brow, prepared 
to depart. He paused a moment on the 
steps, and darting a threatening look at Ma- 
rianna, exclaimed: — 

“You shall regret this insult; my words 
are prophetic. I will make them true. 

Hexar shall burn, and ” 

“ Marianna closed the door and did not 
hear the conclusion of the sentence, though 
she could well guess its import. She retired 
to her chamber, feeling truly wretched, and 
gave way to her emotions without restraint. 
That she feared Cogswell she could not 
deny; and his threats had terrified her great- 
ly, in addition to the repugnance she had 
always felt towards him. 

« « « « » 

Soon after Walter Ethington’s departure 
from camp. Captain Wilson gave orders to 
Lieutenant Cameron (a tried officer and sol- 
dier who had shared the dangers of various 
battles) to double the guard and take other 
precautions, as he had reason to believe that 
an attack upon the town was meditated by 
a band of the enemy that had been seen up- 
on the west bank of the Neuces. Having 
given the lieutenant such instructions as he 
thought necessary, he called Felix, and pro- 
ceeded towards San Antonio. 

“ Now, Felix,” said Wilson. “ Open your 
cars and hear what I am going to say,” 
added the captain. 

“ Locomote yer sentiments — ’ luminate de 
natur ob de subjeck,” responded Felix. 

“ You see I am going into town ? ” 

“ I know what for, raassa ? ” 

“ Name it, you colored specimen.” 

“ He, he I keep cool, massa Kentuck; don’t 
go for to bein’ hard on dis nigger feller; 
you’re a-gwiue up to see dat harnsum white 
gal; heah, heah I ” 

“ Right, Felix, for once in your life.” 

“ Don’t blame ye, massa; I used to go to 
see a white gal once.” 

“ You?” 

“ Ob course.” 

“ Come, Felix, be careful.” 

“ Yes, Bare.” 

“ Do you see this rifle ? ” 

“ Does I see dat rifle ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Ob course I does.” 


“ Well, take it, and I will tell you what I 
want you 1o do with it.” 

“ Splanify de natur ob de case, massa 
cap’en.” 

Wilson walked on a little while in silence, 
while Felix followed close at his heels. 

“ Now,” he resumed, stopping just within 
the town, “ I want you to stand here with 
the rifle, and if you hear any disturbance, or 
see anything that looks like an attack from 
the enemy, fire, and then run to the camp, 
as fast as you can, and turn out the Rangers.” 

“Yes, sare. I’ll give ye a tall specimen 
ob runnin’; I’se good at dat.” 

“ I’ve no doubt but you will do the running 
part well; but you must tell Lieutenant Cam- 
eron what you have seen as soon as you reach 
camp.” 

“ Well, what’ll dat be ? ” 

“ Why, you rascal I your skull wants rasp- 
ing down. How should I know what you 
will see or hear ? It may be one thing, or it 
may be another, and perhaps just nothing at 
all.” 

“ Dat ’luminates de cocos ob dis nigger; I 
magnifies de ’hole at a glance. But wouldn’t 
it be safer not to fire till I get to de camp ? ” 

“Snappin’ turtles, and Kentucky alliga- 
tors! ” cried the captain; “ your head is bul- 
let proof. It might be safer for you, but not 
for me.” 

“ You can’t be safe wid dat Miss Marian- 
na, no how; dem bright eyes ob hers will do 
de bisness in less dan no time, if not sooner. 
Dare’s a great deal ob de magnificent fluid in 
dem top ’luminaries. Yah, yah!” 

With a good-natured laugh the honest Ken- 
tuckian repeated his injunctions and walked 
on; in a few minutes he found himself blush- 
ing beneath the battery of Marianna’s eyes. 
Before leaving camp he had deliberately re- 
solved to speak to her in relation to the sub- 
ject nearest his heart, but now that he was 
face to face with her, he was unable to say a 
word regarding the matter uppermost in his 
mind. 

Marianna received him with uncommon 
kindness, and after some preliminary remarks 
and many blushes, she proceeded to relate 
what had passed between Cogswell and her- 
self; repeating in detail, so far as &he could 
recollect, all he had threatened concerning 
the destruction of Bexar. 

Captain Wilson listened with breathless at- 
tention and rising indignation. 

“ It appears, then,” said the latter, “ that 
he has joined the band of Mexican ontlavrs 


86 


THE TEXAN BEAYO; OE, THE LONE STAE OF TEXAS. 


that is hovering about the Neuces river. 
His threats are by no means idle, and no 
doubt he intends to do all he has spoken of. 

I thank you sincerely for the confidence you 
have reposed in me, and it affords me inex- 
pressible pleasure to have the means of pro- 
tecting you in my power; also to feel assured 
that you have no — no ” 

“ No what ? ” asked Marianna, innocently. 

“No friendship for a man capable of such 
baseness,” he added, greatly embarrassed. 

“ I always feared him, and instinctively 
shrank from him. But tell me if you really 
think Bexar in danger ? ” 

“ Bexar can never be taken,” said the cap- 
tain, earnestly, “ while half a dozen Texan 
Hangers live to ‘ look through the double 
sights.’ Rest assured that when Cogswell 
marshals his forces about the dwelling whose 
roof covers Marianna Lee, that we shall be 
near.” 

The captain spoke enthusiastically, and 
was repaid by a timid yet grateful look from 
the maiden. 

“Our foes are cowards,” he resumed. 
“They turn pale when they hear the report 
of a Texan rifle. They know that we are 
devoid of fear, and can fight better than any 
other foe they ever faced. Let Cogswell pre- 
sume to cross this threshold, no matter if he 
be followed by an hundred of his Mexican 
allies, he shall perish ignobly, or retire baf- 
fled, and burning with mortification.” 

“Your bold words re-assure me,” said 
Marianna. 

“ If I dared,” added Wilson, desperately, 
“ to say what — what” 

“ You have said ‘what’ twice, captain,” re- 
marked Marianna, demurely. “ Shall I call 
brother James ? ” 

“No — ^yes — by all means — certainly not,” 
stammered the captain, dreadfully embar- 
rassed, and an awkward silence ensued. 

“I had thought,” resumed Wilson at length, 
and then quite broke down; and Marianna 
was so much confused herself, that she lost 
her presence of mind and couldn’t say a word. 

The captain choked and went on again. 

“ I can face an enemy,” he said, and stuck 
again. 

“Certainly,” murmured Marianna, who 
now really felt called upon to say something. 

“ I can face an enemy, but find it impossi- 
ble to say — that is, to express, what I would 
like to on all occasions,” added Wilson, with 
an effort such as a drowning man makes to 
catch at a straw. 


Marianna was now trembling and blushingr 
very much, and still trying to look perfectly* 
unmoved and composed. 

“ I thought James would return before this 
time,” she managed to articulate. 

“ Marianna,” continued the captain. 

“ Yes,” said the maiden. 

“ Did you say yes ? ” he added, wiping tho 
cold perspiration from his forehead. 

“ Yes,” said Marianna. 

“Is it possible that I am so happy as to- 
be” 

“ What ? ” asked the maiden, dropping her 
embroidery and scarcely knowing where, or 
who she was. 

“Alligators and Kentucky bosses!” ex- 
claimed Wilson, frantically. “ I’m a blun- 
dering school-boy. The fact is, I love you.” 

“Dear me!” said Marianna, striving to- 
hide her confusion. 

“ Yes, dear you,” answered the captain, 
turning from red to pale, and from pale to 
red in an incredible short space of time, and: 
taking her hand very cautiously and respect- 
fully. 

Marianna burst into tears, and felt that 
her heart was beating very fast, and that her 
cheeks must be dreadfully crimsoned, es- 
pecially after the captain was so bold as to 

draw her towards him, and , but for her 

sake we will not finish the sentence. 

The “ice,” as the saying is, was now* 
“ broken,” and a mutual understanding 
seemed to be speedily brought about. If 
Marianna trembled and wept, it was not be- 
cause she was unhappy; while the captain 
was filled with wonder at the progress he 
had made, and was ready to believe that he 
was at camp asleep and dreaming profound- 
ly. He had just begun to think there was 
some foundation in his dreams, when Mr. 
Lee and James appeared; a circumstance, 
which, however agreeable it might have 
been at any other time, certainly did not 
wholly harmonize with his feelings now. 

Beside, his extreme modesty and bashful- 
ness left him still in doubt as to the state of 
Marianna’s affections. What would have 
seemed amply sufficient to a more ex- 
perienced man in love matters, appeared 
enigmatical and of dubious meaning to him; 
though on the whole he felt very well satis- 
fied that he was getting along so finely; and 
we presume the discerning reader is pretty 
much of the same opinion. 

Other subjects were now discussed by the 
new-comers, and the threats which Cogs- 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


87 


well had made against the peace and safety 
of San Antonio de Bexar was fully talked 
over. By this time the captain had forgot- 
ten Felix, and the solitary vigil he was keep- 
ing. The moments winged themselves rap- 
idly away, and the small hours of the night 
approached. 

Suddenly there was the crack of a rifle 
that reverberated sharply from street to 
street; and brought the captain to his feet, 
as though he had received a powerful shock 
from a galvanic battery. 

“ Bring out your weapons 1 ” he exclaimed; 

there is danger near; perhaps the town is 
attacked.” 

Marianna’s cheek grew pale, and she 
thought of Cogswell’s threats. The cap- 
tain’s trepidation vanished at once. The 
sound of a rifle and the prospect of a fight 
aroused all his warlike blood and quickened 
his energies. He could now speak firmly 
and calmly, and express his wishes without 
difficulty. The bright eye of the maiden 
might abash him, but from the eye of an 
-enemy he never shrank. 

“ Hark I ” he exclaimed. “ I hear the 
tread of armed men; they approach the 
house. Hand me out one of those rifles. 
Miss Lee, do not fear, keep out of the 
range of the windows; extinguish the lights.” 

Wilson stepped to the window the moment 
the lights were extinguished, and looked out. 
The street in front was full of men. 

The captain fell back and spoke to his two 
companions in whispers. “There are men 
in front of the house; they are preparing to 
enter; be ready to give them a volley. Ma- 
rianna and her mother had better retire to a 
situation less exposed.” 

They now heard the gate, which gave 
iiccess to the little yard in front, opened soft- 
ly. They were obviously meditating a sur- 
prise. 

Young Lee was no longer able to curb his 
curiosity, and followed Wilson’s example of 
reconnoitering from the window. He laid 
his hand nervously upon the captain’s arm, 
saying in a voice not above his breath: — 

“ I see a figure that resembles Cogswell. 
And look! those with him are Mexicans. I 
know them by their jaunty rig, and by high 
colors, if by no other means. Cogswell is 
disposed to keep rather in the background, 
and put his fellows forward.” 

“ H*e’s a coward,” said Wilson. 

“ Do you know what I tliinkhe’s here for, 
with those ugly chaps 2 ” 


“ I don’t,” replied the captain. 

“ I will tell you; ’tis to carry off Mari- 
anna.” 

“ Do you think he will do it ? ” asked the 
Ranger, significantly. 

“ If he does, he’ll have to carry off several 
of us, or settle up our earthly accounts for 
us,” answered young Lee, firmly. 

“ Can you see him now ? ” whispered the 
captain, looking anxiously forth in the 
dark. 

“ I can’t; he has stepped back. What 
does this delay mean, I wonder? ” 

“ Surrounding the house, most likely. 
Listen 1 they are trying the door.” 

The door was shaken gently at first, and 
more violently anon , by those without. The 
parties within waited long enough for these 
preparations to assume form sufficiently of- 
fensive to warrant them in acting on the 
defensive, when Wilson urged the propriety 
of firing upon them. His companions were 
not averse to this proposition, for James had 
been anxious to look through the sights for 
the last five minutes. 

“ You see a cluster of fellows there by 
the gate ? ” said the ranger. 

“Yes,” said Lee,“ and we will thin it out.” 

“ A fine chance for a shot,” continued 
Wilson; “ let us improve it.” 

The moon whose light had been hitherto 
deeply obscured by clouds, now shed a mo- 
mentary gleam upon the swarthy faces of 
the group, revealing dimly their outlines. 
They stood, carelessly leaning upon their 
escopetas, as if awaiting some signal from 
their companions at the door, not dreaming 
that their presence was suspected by the in- 
mates. 

“ Give them your lead,” whispered the 
ranger. 

The report of three rifles breaking suddenly 
upon the stillness of the night, and up- 
on the unsuspecting ears of those without, 
gave a startling indication that they were 
discovered. 

A sharp cry of pain was heard, a few half- 
uttered exclamations and curses, and when 
the smoke had cleared away, not a Mexican 
was to be seen; but very soon there was a 
shower of balls against the house, perforat- 
ing the walls, and shivering the glass, doing 
no other injury. 

It was in vain that Wilson strained his 
eyes to catch a glimpse of the figure of Cogs- 
well; he took good care not to expose his 
person. 


S8 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


There was an interval of silence, and a 
•nspension of offensive operations on the 
part of the belligerents; they were doubt- 
less holding a consultation. But the tem- 
porary calm was of short duration; a general 
attack upon the dwelling speedily followed, 
an<l it was very certain that those within 
could not long defend it when there was 
such a disparity of numbers. 

Doors, windows, and every assailable part 
was assailed simultaneously. Lee and his 
companions fought with heroic courage; 
they passed from window to window, dashing 
back their enemies, and putting forth 
efforts that seemed well-nigh above human 
capacity. 

Wilson thought of Marianna, and as he 
beheld the foe fast gaining ground, the 
thought was fraught with unspeakable agony. 
She would unquestionably be torn from him, 
and irrevocably be lost to him at the very 
crisis when he was sure that he had some 
share in. her affections, 
i In every assailant he hoped to met Cogs- 
well; and growing desperate at length, he 
loudly called on him and dared him to an 
encounter; but there was no response, and 
Wilson cursed his cowardice. 

The enemy were pouring in at the window, 
and for the first time the bold ranger ex- 
perienced a feeling of despair. He thought 
of Cameron, and would have given his 
right hand to have heard the steps of the 
Texan Rangers. 

“ Where are my brave fellows ? ” he ex- 
claimed. “ What can keep them away so 
long?’’ At that critical juncture, to rend- 
er the scene more deplorable, Marianna and 
her mother rushed into the apartment closely 
pursued. 

The ranger threw his arms about Marian- 
na, and with his good sword defended her 
bravely, making his own fearless bosom a 
bulwark for her defenseless head. The 
hand that had felt weary but a moment be- 
fore, was endowed with double energy; for 
the gentle being whom he now pressed to 
his heart had restored all his strength, and 
fired his soul with determination. 

“We are losti ” cried Lee, “ but we will 
perish doing our duty.” 

“ Yes,” we will all die together,” said 
Mrs. Lee. “ Our separation will be short, 
our reunion speedy.” 

“ Yield! ” cried aVoice from the middle 
of the assailants; “ yield, and we will spare 
your lives.” 


“ ’Tis Cogswell,” exclaimed Mrs. Lee. 

“No, villain! we will fight it out,” re- 
plied Lee. “ We will not yield our defence- 
less women to you; they prefer to die honor- 
ably with us.” 

“ Desist! ” shouted Cogswell once more; 
“ every moment you endanger the lives o£ 
those you love.” 

“ Meet me like a man,” cried Wilson; 
“ come forward, and let us decide this mat- 
ter face to face.” 

“ Never! ” replied Cogswell. “ The affair 
is already decided. You are surrounded, 
and cannot hold your ground three minutes 
longer. Relinquish your hold upon that 
girl, whose life you are recklessly exposing^ 
and I will withdraw my men.” 

The ranger’s blood boiled with indigna- 
tion, and he made desperate efforts to cut 
his way through the leveled lances to reach 
Cogswell. 

Suddenly there came sounds that made 
every heart leap and every ear tingle. The 
points of both lance and sword fell to the 
ground; for the trumpet tones of Cameron, 
were ringing upon the air. 

“ Forward, my lads — forward — steady — 
now give it to the swarthy d Is! ” 

The deadly crack of the Texan rifles fell 
like sharp thunder upon the senses of the as- 
sailants within the dwelling; they rushed 
simultaneously towards doors and windows, 
struck with a frightful panic; and many of 
them fell pierced with rifle balls while fore* 
ing themselves out. 

“ Was there ever sweeter music ? cried 
Wilson, as the rifles continued to utter their 
voices of death. 

“Never, since the world was made,” re-^ 
plied Lee. “ Cameron and the Rangers for- 
ever! God bless them! ” 

“ Those without are flying,” said James. 

Captain Wilson sprang to the window, still 
supporting Marianna, and shouting the name 
of Cameron. -The well-known voice of the 
commander reached the ears of the Rangers,, 
and they cheered him to the echo. 

In an instant Cameron sprang in through 
a shattered window, and Wilson wrung hia 
hand in expressive silence; the hearts of all 
were too full to speak. The dark face of 
Felix appeared in the window. 

“ Go yer Se’th, MassaKentuck! ” 

“ All safe, Felix,” said the ranger in a 
low voice. 

“ Where’s Massa Ethington ? ” 

The captain’s countenance fell, and h* 


THE TEXAH BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


3 ^ 


looked inquiringly at Cameron; the latter 
shook his head. The African glanced from 
one to the other, and his large eyes displayed 
a frightful quantity of white. 

“ Here’s a scrape for dis nigger,” he ex- 
claimed. “ You’d better all on ye be dead, 
and dis child better be dead, too. Why 
don’t you ’luminate de subjeck, some on 
ye?” 

“ We can’t,” said the captain. “ I would 
most gladly, if I could. I trust he is safe, 
however,” 

“I sha’n’t express my ideas till I know 
suthin ’tickerlar in regard to de natur ob de 
pecooliar circumstances ob de case,” re- 
plied Felix, ominously. “ But if dis darkey,” 
he added, “ war to promulgate any ’pinion, 
it wouldn’t be ambigerous to de happiness ob 
dis occasion.” 

Lights were speedily procured, the dead 
and wounded removed by the Rangers, and 
such precautions for the general safety taken 
as the case required. The enemy were 
completely routed, and the bold Texans had 
the pleasure of receiving the heartfelt thanks 
of the people of Bexar whose homes they 
had defended. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE SCOUTING PAKTY. 

Upon the following morning Felix was 
seen wandering about with a melancholy 
and dejected air. His master could not be 
found, and no one could give any informa- 
tion respecting his fate. Ridgley communi- 
cated to the captain what had transpired at 
his house the night previous, and how 
opportunely the young man had appeared to 
do him an important service ; he had hast- 
ened away to join the Rangers, and that was 
all he knew of his movements on that occa- 
sion. All agreed that he was either captured 
or slain, and as he could not be found, they 
had good reason to suppose that he was a 
prisoner. 

As Felix was walking up and down in the 
vicinity of the Texan camp, with a sad 
countenance, he beheld the lad he had seen 
at San Jacinto (and who always seemed to 
be near Ridgley) approaching. 

“Well Massa ’Gustus,” said Felix, “the 
Mexicums hab cotched Massa Ethington at 
last.” 

“ So I have heard,” replied Augustus. 
“ What do you intend to do ? ” 


“ What am I gwine to do ? ” 

“ Yes, Felix.” 

“ I know what I’d do, if I could.” 

“ What ? ” 

“ I’d send dat white gal dat disappointed 
him to de plenopetentiary for life,” said 
Felix. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t be so bad, I know,” 
answered Augustus, promptly. “ Perhaps 
she deserves it, though,” he added, qukkly. 

“ If she don’t, nobody does.” 

“ There’s no knowing what girls will do,” 
said Augustus. 

“ Hat’s a fack; dey isn’t to be trusted no 
how.” 

“ I suppose you will try and find your 
master, Felix?” said Augustus, looking 
searchingly at the African. 

“ You may bet your life on dat, Massa 
’Gustus. If dis child can’t find him, dere’» 
no live nigger dat can.” 

“ I like your spirit,” added the lad. “ I 
have half a mind to go with you.” 

“ You ? ” exclaimed Felix contemptuously. 

“ Yes, me,” answered Henrie, striking 
himself lightly upon his chest with his 
gloved hand. 

“ Well, you look like it,” added the negr^. 
“Heah, heahl ” 

“ Why do you laugh, Felix ? ” 

“ Why does I laugh ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ To hear such a dainty little fellow talk 
ob gwine with me. Yah, yahl ” 

“It is not always the largest person that 
can do the most, Felix. You know where 
there is a will to do good there is always a 
way.” 

“ So I’ve heered; and you showed a heap 
of kindness to massa when he was wounded. 
He speak ob you bery often since he’s beea 
here. He said he couldn’t keep you out ob 
his mind, on no ’count whatsomever.” 

“Did he really say that? ” asked Augus- 
tus, earnestly. “ I thought he didn’t seena 
to like me very well for some reason.” 

“ Well, he got ober dat, and felt bery lone- 
some and solemcholy ’kase you wasn’t here. 
I’ve heered him call Massa ’Gustus many a 
time in his sleep.” 

Upon hearing ihese words the features 
of the youth were lighted up with a strange 
gleam of satisfaction. 

“ Ah, well, it is pleasant to be remembered 
by those vrhom we esteem,” said Augustus, 
with a faint smile. “ It makes the heart 
feel lighter.” 


40 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“ Do you tink cullud persons hab hearts, 
massa?” 

“ There can be no doubt of it,” replied 
Augustus. “I have known some very re- 
spectable negroes whose sensibilities were as 
acute, apparently, as a white person’s. In 
regard to your master, I hope you will leave 
no means untried to aid him. If you need 
any pecuniary assistance, I shall be most hap- 
py to assist you.” 

“ Tank you, massa, but I don’t need noth- 
in’ in dat line,” answered Felix. 

Wishing the latter success, Augustus 
turned and walked to the camp of the Texan 
Rangers, and was met on the way by Captain 
Wilson, who manifested much pleasure as 
well as surprise at the unexpected event. 

“You are,” said the ranger, “probably 
aware of the fact that Mr. Ethington, the 
brave gentleman, to whom you showed con- 
siderable kindness is missing, and was doubt- 
less captured during the skirmish of last 
night.” 

“Yes, I know,” replied the youth, “and 
have come to ask what you intend to do ? ” 

“ I will tell you, my lad, with pleasure. I 
shall take a few of my bravest and trustiest 
fellows, and follow the enemy as far as the 
Indian follows the trail of a marauding war- 
party. It never shall be said of an alligator 
from Old Kentuck, that he deserts a friend 
in the time of his extreme need. No, no; 
that won’t do; I must shoulder my rifle, take 
their track, cross the Neuces, traverse prai- 
ries, forest and chapparels in search of my 
friend.” 

“ It gives me pleasure to hear you say sol ” 
exclaimed Augustus, warmly. “ I knew you 
were of a bold and chivalrous nature.” 

“ Whether that be the case or not, the man 
whom I am going to seek is the soul of sol- 
diery, the heart of honor; and I will never 
forsake him, while there is a chance, however 
small it may be, of serving him. If I can- 
not avert his fate, I will incur the risk of 
sharing it, if I can do nothing more ; friend- 
ship requires as much as this.” 

“ Possibly it is too late to be of any essential 
service to him,” added Augustus in a low 
voice. 

“Very true. He has been an object of 
particular dislike to our enemies from first to 
last; and it is greatly to be feared that they 
will make short work with him; more espec- 
ially if the man called Wikoff and the villain 
Cogswell have anything to do with the 
matter.” 


“You think this Wikoff whom you have 
mentioned is an enemy to him ? ” said Au- 
gustus. 

“ A most bitter and uncompromising one; 
for you see there is a woman in the scrape.” 

“ I have heard that he loves my cousin An- 
drea,” returned Augustus. 

“ Yes, and that makes all the trouble. It 
appears that Ethington was sure enough of 
the girl, and loved her tenderly, until some 
fatal misunderstanding, the nature of which 
I do not exactly know, and never could find 
out,” observed Wilson. 

“It is to be regretted that he never tried 
to have the difficulty explained,” resumed 
Augustus, thoughtfully. 

“ He did not like to say much about the 
subject; and the fact was, he said it never 
could be explained; but it is my opinion that 
this same Wikoff had an agency in the affair,” 
answered the captain. 

“ Have you seen Eidgley, this morning.” 

“ I have, and he told me of the unwarrant- 
able attack on his mansion, and of the ser- 
vice rendered by our mutual friend, Ething- 
ton. It appears that Mr. Eidgley is Miss St. 
Aubert’s uncle ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You know her, then.” 

“ Very well, but not quite so well as I wish 
I did,” said the youth, with a sigh. 

“ Why, my lad, you are not in love with 
her, are you ? ” 

“Oh, no; but I like her very well when she 
pleases me.” 

“ Is she handsome ? ” 

“ Eosalia thinks she is.” 

“ Well, what do you think? ” 

“ My opinion isn’t worth much on such 
matters; but I should say that she had a fair 
share of beauty, though not much more than 
usually falls to the lot of young ladies. She 
has regular features, and Eosalia says a very 
good figure, but I imagine I could find fault 
with both.” 

“ Eosalia is Mr. Eidgley’s daughter ? ” 

“ And consequently my cousin, also.” 

“ Well, I hope all will come right ul- 
timately.” 

“ No one desires such an event more sin- 
cerely than the youth now before you,” added 
Augustus, sighing. 

With mutual good wishes the parties separ- 
ated, the captain to make the necessary prep- 
arations for pursuing the enemy, and the oth- 
er to follow the bent of his own fancies, what- 
ever they might be. 


THE TEXAN BllAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


41 


Cameron and a half-dozen of the boldest 
and hardiest of the Hangers were selected to 
carry out the object in view, while the com- 
pany was left in command of the second lieu- 
tenant until they should return. The cap- 
tain did not consider it safe to take more men, 
as the town might be attacked, when all would 
be needed in its defence. 

Well armed, and feeling fully prepared for 
any emergency, the little party set otf on the 
expedition, followed by the good wishes of 
those who remained behind. They crossed 
the Rio San Miguel, and directed their course 
towards the Neuces. Felix had joined Wil- 
son and his brave fellows, greatly elated with 
the prospect of being of any service to his 
master. 

It was found a matter of some diflSculty to 
trace the enemy. They were obliged to pro- 
ceed slowly, and with the observance of much 
caution, to prevent a surprise by large parties 
‘of Mexicans who might be scouring the coun- 
■try in that vicinity. During the first half 
‘day’s travel, numerous signs of the retreating 
•enemy were seen; but after passing a small 
tributary of the Rio Frio, they discovered 
that they were no longer guided by the land- 
marks that had directed their footsteps 
previously. 

The region which they were now entering 
differed materially from that behind them, 
being covered with dense chapparel and 
stunted trees, interspersed with ponds and 
small salt lakes. After spending consider- 
able time to find traces of the enemy, and 
the night approaching, it was thought best to 
camp in the neighborhood, and prepare for a 
more thorough and earnest search upon the 
“following day. 

Wilson and Cameron stood apart from their 
companions. With folded arms and thought- 
ful faces, they watched the shadows of night 
stealing over lake and chapparel. 

“ An hour like this casts a spell upon my 
spirit,” said Cameron. “ 1 love to see the 
glare of day fade and give place to the dim, 
placid twilight.” 

“ I have similar feelings,” replied Wilson; 

but 1 like night best when more advanced 
towards the small hours, and the moon and 
stars are mildly beaming.” 

Cameron made no reply, and the parties 
remained silent. Wilson was the first to 
.speak. 


“That’s a heavy rifle of yours,” he said, 
glancing at the weapon upon which Cameron 
was leaning. “ 1 dare say it has been of ser- 
vice to you in its time ? ” 

“Xo money could induce me to part with 
it, because I have proved its metal on many 
occasions. Did 1 ever tell you of an adven- 
ture that 1 had once near the Red River? ” 

“You never did; I should like to hear it,” 
said Wilson. 

“Several years ago,” resumed Cameron, 
“I was hunting near ‘Cross Timbers,’* not 
far from Red River. The Indians were then 
troublesome, and frequently committed their 
depredations upon the frontier settlements; 
but I was fond of hunting, and cared little 
for them, willing to trust to my own courage 
and ingenuity in any emergency that might 
occur. I carried this same rifle, and was 
called one of the best shots in the country. 

“ Many people said it was a piece too heavy 
for common use; but I was accustomed to it, 
and it didn’t feel burdensome to me; and 
when I fired, it was sure to do the right thing, 
for what animal could carry off an ounce and 
a half of lead, skillfully sped on its errand? 

“ Having discovered Indian signs one day, • 
I thought it best to change my hunting 
ground; and so put a considerable distance 
between myself and the spot, and encamped 
on the wide prairie, bounded on the east by 
the ‘Cross Timbers.’ Not long after this 
event, I was sitting on the bank of a small 
stream, resting my weary limbs after a long 
and fatiguing hunt, when I was fired upon 
and slightly wounded. 

“ I was fortunate enough to discover the 
marksman, who proved to be an Indian, of 
what tribe I do not now remember. I in- 
stantly shot him dead, and then perceived 
that he was not alone; for one of his brethren 
was with him, who made good his escape. 
Time passed on, and I was undisturbed in 
my amusements for a long time. 

“ One day not feeling well, I returned to 
my camp sooner than usual. I lay down 
and tried to sleep, but couldn’t. I felt un- 
easy and nervous, and so arose and went out 
on to the prairie. The grass was now very 

• A continuous series of forest, varying in breadth 
from five to ten miles, and extending in a direct 
line from the source of the Trinity northward to 
the Arkansas River. 


42 


THE TEXAN BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OP TEXAS. 


tall, and the hot suns of the season had dried 
it until it was crispy, and rattled as I walked 
through it. I ascended a gentle swell and 
looked around me. The scene was a grand 
one. On one hand was the ‘ Cross Timbers’ 
dimly seen in the distance, resembling a 
dense wall of wood built by human hands; 
while in every other direction the prairie 
stretched away until lost in the distance. 
The sun was getting low, and looked like 
a sunset on the sea. As my eyes wandered 
from point to point, they were suddenly 
fixed upon a solitary figure several hundred 
yards distant, at the foot of the long swell or 
roll upon which I was standing. He stood 
in an open space, and at first I wondered 
how that could be, as the grass was so high 
in every other place; but the affair soon ex- 
plained itself. 

“ More careful observation showed me that 
the solitary figure was an Indian, and his ob- 
ject in plucking up the dry grass was evident; 
he was going to fire the prairie! It was 
doubtless the same fellow that had escaped 
at the time when I had been fired at. He 
had discovered my retreat, and was about to 
revenge his comrade in a signal manner. 

“ The wind was blowing fresh towards me, 
and if the grass was once set on fire, no 
power on earth could save me, for the fieetest 
horse could not run fast enough to escape 
its devouring flames. A terrible dread of 
that kind of a death came over me. I stood 
like one fascinated, and gazed at the prepar- 
ations of the savage. He stood in the 
middle of the open space that he had made, 
with a blazing torch in his hand. Innumer- 
able thoughts rushed through my mind in 
an instant of time. I was never so com- 
pletely paralyzed and stupefied before in my 
life. The power of thought seemed the only 
power left me, and that was stimulated to 
an unnatural degree. The past, present and 
future were reviewed and speculated upon 
in that brief and broken fragment of time 
in which the savage stood waiting for the 
brand to burn up more brightly before he 
thrust it into the grass. 

“Yes; my destiny was to be burned! 
Some hunter or traveler would find my body 
charred and blackened; and others, after a 
time, would pass my bones bleaching in the 
sun. I shuddered; my eyes felt hot; my 
tongue was dry, and I imagined that I felt 


the flames creeping over me. If it had 
been a danger that I could have battled with, 
or if I could have seen any chance for escape 
depending on my own exertions, it would 
have been different; but now all I could do 
was to stand and stare the most dreadful of 
all fates in the face. You must remember 
that all these ideas and reflections rushed 
through my brain in the shortest apprecia- 
ble time; for you must know that the sudden 
prospect of great danger from which there 
is no apparent mode of escape, imparts to 
the brain the horrible faculty of thought, 
of which the mind at rest can form no possi- 
ble conception. 

“ I closed my eyes in despair, and com- 
mended my soul to God; but it was impossi- 
ble for me to close my vision against the one 
great and absorbing idea in my mind — that 
of being burned up like a vile reptile that 
crawls in the weeds. 

“ My lids unclosed again, and as they did 
80, my eyes rested upon my trusty rifle ; it was 
the first time I had thought of it, for the 
distance was great between me and my ene» 
my; but now it looked like an old friend,, 
and the only one that had power to save me, 
I embraced the thought that the sight of my 
rifle called up, with joy — a species of joy 
which is nearly overpowered by an antago- 
nizing feeling. 

“ One chance still remained, a small 
chance it was true, but still a chance ; and 
despair cannot completely paralyze the 
heart, while even one faint hope remains. 
I lifted the instrument upon which hung my 
destiny. As my glance ran over the inter- 
vening distance, I felt how desperate indeed 
was my prospect of life, for a hundred good 
marksmen might try their skill in vain, in 
aiming at an object so far off. Then I re- 
membered that my weapon was of uncom- 
mon calibre and weight, and would throw a 
ball further than any I had ever seen. I 
recollected that I had loaded it that very day 
with uncommon care, and for a long shot. 

“ The Indian moved the torch, and was 
about to apply it to the combustible material; 
there was no time to lose. The rifle came 
to my shoulder quick and firm, and I braced 
up my nerves for a steady aim with a strongs 
effort of the will. I looked through the 
double sights, and the muzzle covered the 
Indian’s head. My heart seemed to stop' 


THE TEXAN BRAV'D; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


43 


beating, held in the grasp of that terrible 
suspense. It was but an instant, then the 
rifle sent its ounce and a half of lead on its 
mission with a crack that was unusually loud 
and sharp, and a recoil which threw me 
back a few paces. 

“ The smoke curled away, but I dared not 
look. I passed my hand slowly across my 
forehead, for my brain was throbbing pain- 
fully. Every moment I expected to be 
greeted by the dense smoke from the burn- 
ing prairie, and to hear the hissing of the 
rushing flame; but nothing of the kind oc- 
curred, and I ventured to look towards the 
spot where the savage had stood with his 
torch; I took courage, reloaded my rifle, and 
walked hastily towards the place. 

“I reached it; the Indian lay upon his 
back, the brand, half extinguished, beside 
him; an ounce and a half of lead had passed 
through his h^ad. I sank down overpowered 
with gratitude, and the various emotions 
which such an incident was calculated to in- 
spire. That was the greatest shot I ever 
made, and probably shall never equal it 
again. Can you wonder that I am attached 
to the rifle? ” 

“Not at all,” said the captain, earnestly. 
“ I should never part with it, if it was 
mine.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE ESCAPE OF WILSON. — THE FORT. 

Early in the morning Captain Wilson 
and Lieutenant Cameron, leaving their 
horses with their companions, left the camp 
on foot to reconnoitre. Being well acquaint- 
ed with the habits of their enemies, they ap- 
prehended little or no danger in such a move- 
ment, and soon separated. 

Wilson struck off to the right, and pur- 
sued a north-westerly direction over a rough 
and uninviting country, often obliged to 
force his way through musquite-bushes so 
thickly matted with vines that it was a work 
of some difficulty to proceed. At length he 
reached a more open region, and was able 
to go forward with less exertion. 

The wide rolling prairies, characteristic of 
the country between the Neuces and the 
Colorado, were no longer seen. The cap- 
tain entered the narrow defile, and after fol- 


lowing it for some time, ascended a sharp 
hill, at the foot of which lay a sluggish look- 
ing lake, with some sickly looking vegeta- 
tion growing upon its margin. Near this 
sheet of water he discovered signs of a party 
of horsemen. 

Upon a closer inspection he felt sure that 
the tracks were produced by the small feet 
of the mustang, commonly used among the 
Mexicans. To put the matter beyond 
doubt, he followed the tracks a considerable 
distance, and as the soil in the place was 
sandy, the impressions were quite distinct. 

Having satisfied himself that they were 
made by a party of Mexicans, the captain of 
the rangers was about to retrace his steps, 
when the sound of horses’ feet at full gallop 
caused him to turn his attention in another 
direction. Three Mexicans, mounted after 
the fashion of the country, upon mustangs, 
were advancing at the top of their speed. 
Two of the party had lassos in their hands, 
ready to throw with that terrible precision 
acquired by long and constant practice, 
while the third held an escopeta in such a 
manner, that Wilson was led to expect im- 
mediate acts of hostility. 

They abated their speed as they neared 
the ranger, evidently fearful of the effects 
of the rifie which lay across his arm. Per- 
ceiving that a direct approach would be like- 
ly to prove fatal to one or more of them, 
they began to ride around him in circles,, 
and at a considerable distance from each 
other, hoping to confuse him and so distract 
his attention, that the fellow with the esco- 
peta might get within shooting distance; but 
this idea proved how little they knew of the 
disposition of the Kentuckian. So far from 
being embarrassed, or having his attention 
divided by their manoeuvres, he beheld them 
with perfect calmness and self-possession. 

He had been in many engagements and 
smelled gunpowder too often to be thus easi- 
ly frightened. Momentarily the assailants 
lessened the diameter of their circles, shak- 
ing their lassos, shouting, and scattering the 
sand at a great rate. 

Though the ranger dreaded the lasso, he 
resolved to bring down the fellow with the 
escopeta first, if possible, and then deal with 
the others as circumstances might permit. 
He patiently waited his opportunity as the 
circle narrowed; but the object of his mark 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


*'i4 


seemed to mistrust his intentions, and kept 
-his mustang continually upon the move. 

Tired at length with his continual watch- 
fulness, he let the breech of his rifle fall to 
the ground, determined to suffer them to ex- 
haust themselves wdth their efforts. Seeing 
him standing, calmly leaning upon the muz- 
zle of his rifle, the Mexican checked his 
animal, and raised his weapon to his shoul- 
der. 

Knowing the Mexicans to be poor marks- 
enen, and the distance being great, the ran- 
;ger did not fear the result, and he taunting- 
ly shouted to him to fire. He obeyed, and 
1;he ball struck the ground several yards 
irom the captain. Cursing his poor powder 
^nd want of success, the Mexican scampered 
away to reload, leaving his companions to 
•shout and threaten, and shake their lassos 
ito their hearts’ content. 

In a moment the cowardly fellow returned, 
his courage somewhat increased by the re- 
port of his own weapon. It was now appar- 
ent that he intended to try his luck again, 
:with the additional improvement of getting 
a, little tnearer. Urged on by the taunts and 
sneers of this companions, he gradually ap- 
proached ;the Kentuckian. He stopped his 
mustang, leveled his escopeta, and threw 
'himself forward in the saddle ; but Wilson 
"was too, quick for him; he had not practiced 
rifle shooting for nothing in the wilds of 
** Old Kentuck.” Before the finger of the 
Mexican ,had itouched the trigger, a leaden 
messenger had pierced his heart; he sprang 
lUp into the air, and fell to the ground never 
to mingle again with the affairs of earth. 

The mustang shook himself, smelled the 
body of his master, and with a snort shied 
away from the spot. But with Wilson the 
worst was to come ; the fellows with the las- 
sos would be upon him in a moment, 
and as his rifle was empty they had no more 
fear of it. He sprang to reload it as fast 
as possible, but before the powder had 
reached its place of destination, or the ball 
had followed it, a lasso was flying through 
the air, the fatal noose directed towards the 
captain’s head. 

He avoided it with a dexterous movement, 
and before he had well recovered himself 
for another exertion, the second lasso was 
suspended over him. He could not wholly 
evade it; it caught his right arm in the at- 


tempt to ward it off, and he was dragged 
several vards before he could extricate him- 
self. 

And now succeeded a terrible struggle for 
life and death; the skill with they handled 
those execrable instruments of strangulation, 
required all the agility, strength and pr(^s- 
ence of mind of the Kentuckian to prevent 
the object in view. He drew his pistol, but 
amid the rapid evolutions which he was 
obliged to make, it was difficult to use it with 
any kind of accuracy; and he only had the 
satisfaction of inflicting a slight flesh wound, 
which served to stimulate his antagonists to 
fresh exertions with their infernal lassos, 
which, despite all his efforts to the contrary, 
he began to believe they would eventually 
succeed in fastening upon his neck, when 
his fate was sealed; this object achieved, the 
mustang would be spurred into a gallop, and 
himself dragged at his heels until life was 
extinct. 

With this tragical prospect in view, the 
joy of the ranger may be imagined, when in 
the scuffle and confusion, he caught a glimpse 
of Cameron looking through the double 
sights. Before he could breathe twice, the 
fellow most active with the lasso was knocked 
out of his saddle by an ounce and a half of 
lead, which crashed through his skull, scat- 
tering his brains in the face of his compan- 
ion. 

Struck dumb and powerless with surprise 
and horror, the latter became motionless in 
the very act of throwing his lasso. Wilson 
caught the other pistol from his side, and in 
a moment he lay beside his friend’s body. 

“ God bless you, Cameron! ” exclaimed 
Wilson, sinking exhausted upon the ground. 

“ Just in time,” replied the lieutenant. . 
“ You were having a hard time with those 
infernal contrivances,” he added, pointing 
to the lassos which were made fast to the 
saddles, and were now trailing upon the 
ground as the mustangs moved away and 
began to nibble at the tufts of grass that 
grew here and there. 

“Alligators and snappin’ turtles! I can 
deal with anything better than those lassos,” 
said the captain, wiping the perspiration 
from his brow. 

“ They are greatly to be dreaded when 
there is a proper field for their use,” an- 
swered Cameron. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“ What a relief it was to see you with that 
implement of death to your face,” added 
Wilson. “ I knew I was safe when I caught 
a glimpse of you looking along the sights; it 
was the most joyful emotion that I ever ex- 
perienced, for I was dreadfully worried and 
put to my trumps, I can tell you.” 

“ I can form a tolerable idea of it. I was 
placed in a situation somewhat similar my- 
self. I was on a prairie between the Rio 
Frio and the San Miguel; I stood looking at 
the western skies, lost in a pleasing reverie. 
While in that position, I partially forgot my- 
self, let my rifle slip from ray grasp, and fall 
upon the grass^at my feet. I did not imme- 
diately pick it up, and it was lucky that I did 
not, for before the lapse of three minutes, I 
saw a Mexican chap approaching at a fast 
gallop with his lasso ready to whirl at my 
head. 

“The moment I put my eyes on him, I 
thought I could play ’possum a little. I did 
not as much as look towards my rifle, but 
dropped right down on my marrow bones, 
held up both hands, and begged for mercy 
in Spanish, with all the eloquence ‘I^could 
muster for the occasion. You see he thought 
I was unarmed, and advanced boldly, with 
an expression of malice upon his face that I 
shall never forget should I live to be as old 
sis the most venerable of the patriarchs. 

“I continued to cry out most piteously 
until he got pretty near me, when I caught 
my rifle from among the grass, and aimed it 
straight at his villanous countenance. It’s 
my opinion that you never saw a fellow stop 
more suddenly than he did, and his dark 
visage grew as white as a pale-faced girl’s. 
I let him enjoy the surprise for a few sec- 
onds, and then blazed away. If you should 
ever pass over that spot in this season of the 
year, you will find the prairie grass growing 
very rank there in a certain place six by two. 
I rode his mustang into camp that very 
hour, and that is the end of my story.” 

“ And it’s my opinion,” answered the cap- 
tain, “ that we had better ride those animals 
yonder back to our brave lads.” 

“All right,” said Cameron, and the mus- 
tangs were speedily caught and mounted. 
The one that had first been freed from his 
rider, had strayed a considerable distance; 
but Cameron found him and led him by the 
bridle ; in this way they safely reached their 




companions before night, who had begun to* 
feel alarmed at their long absence. 

The following morning the party resumed 
their way, passing over the same ground 
which Wilson had traversed the preceeding 
day. AfteF a hard ride they encamped on 
the margin of a small lake, near which was 
a tolerable growth of cypress, oak, and elm, 
and plenty of pasturage for the horses. 
While they were busily employed making 
preparations for passing the night as com- 
fortably as the case would admit of, Ridgley 
suddenly appeared among them, mounted 
upon a stout horse, which gave unmistaka- 
ble signs of being overridden. 

Each man ceased operations in surprise, 
for no arrival could have been more unex- 
pected. Ridgley threw himself from his 
steed, and beckoned Captain Wilson to ap- 
proach. 

“ I bring news for you,” he hurriedly said. 
“ The enemy are all around you; you cannot 
go forward, and you cannot return. If you 
would save your lives, let each man take his 
axe and fall to work erecting a suitable de- 
fence. Cut down those oaks yonder and 
other trees of proper, size, and build them 
up into a fort or something of that kind, 
which you know how to construct better 
than I can tell you.” 

“ What makes you think the danger is so 
pressing? ” asked the ranger. 

“ Because your enemies number more 
than a hundred, and are bent on your de- 
struction. They are moving slowly to- 
wards you, confident that there is no way 
for you to escape,” replied Ridgley. 

“ Can’t we cut our way through them ? ” 
continued Wilson. 

“No; it were folly to attempt it. Lose 
no time, but follow my advice.” 

“But they will starve us out,” added 
Wilson. 

“ Perhaps assistance will reach you be- 
fore that time,” said Ridgley. 

“ What will you do ? ” 

“ I shall take care of myself, and possibly 
do something for you; at least it is better 
for one to perish than nine brave fellows. 
Shall you follow my advice ? ” 

“ I think I shall; it can do no hurt at all 
events to put ourselves in a state of defence. 
If no enemy appears after waiting a proper 
length of time, we can push forward again.” 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


AG 


‘'But what good will you do by advancing 
further towards the enemy’s country ? The 
success of an expedition like this depends 
upon its secrecy. You, it would seem, are 
already discovered, consequently can effect 
“nothing on account of your nun^bers.” 

“ There is much reason in wh^t you say,” 
returned the captain. “ If the enemy are 
really on our track, a part of our object is 
already baffled, unless we might manage to 
elude them, and leave them at fault.” 

“If you are attacked, I know you will 
make a brave- defence, and hold out to the 
last,” resumed Ridgley. “ As for our friend 
Ethington, I trust we shall be able to serve 
him yet, if they have not already put him 
out of the way. But I must leave you. 
Adieu, captain.” 

Ridgley sprang to the saddle and clattered 
away as fast as the nature of the ground 
would admit. 

“ That’s a brave fellow,” said Wilson to 
Cameron, pointing after the retreating figure 
of the horseman. “ He is every inch a sol- 
dier.” 

“ Then he is a man for the times,” replied 
the lieutenant. 

“ He is,” was the emphatic rejoinder. 

The two offlcers now consulted together 
for a few moments, and then the captain ad- 
dressed his men as follows: — 

“My bold lads, it would seem that the 
Mexicans are on every side of us in great 
numbers, and contemplate an easy victory 
over us, we being but a handful of men. 
The person who has just ridden away has 
brought the news, and he can be relied on. 
We must disappoint our enemies, if possible, 
and to do so we must erect some kind of a 
defence. Let every man of you fall to work 
with such implements as we may have, 
axes, hatchets, etc., and construct a log fort, 
in which we can use our rifles with good 
effect, while we are at the same time, pro- 
tected from our enemies.” 

This short speech was well received, and 
the men instantly began to work. Such as 
had axes, felled trees, and others c ragged 
their trunks to the spot selected for the rude 
structure, to which they intended to give 
the name of a fort. 

The black and post oak were principally 
employed for this purpose, being locked to- 
gether at the ends by notches upon each 


side, which gave firmness to the fabric. 
Leaving the work going on very rapidly, 
Wilson and Cameron went forth to recon- 
noitre, and bring in some game, if possible. 

They made a long detour around the camp, 
but saw nothing to excite suspicion, and be- 
gan to question the soundness of Ridgley’g 
advice. They were fortunate enough to 
kill a deer, and returned to their comrades 
pretty well convinced that the danger had 
been overrated by their friend. But they 
thought it best not to express their views on 
the subject, and so fell to work and assisted 
the men. 

Before the sun was up in the morning, 
they had the satisfaction of seeing their la- 
bors nearly completed. The walls were 
erected and the top covered over with green 
timber, which could not be easily fired. 
Notches had been cut in the logs previous 
to their being placed, which, when they were 
fitted into the structure at the proper height, 
gave the fabric the appearance of being 
pierced for loop-holes, after the fashion of 
more elaborate fortifications. 

The Texan rifles were to play a conspicu- 
ous part through those rough apertures. 
The horses were next to be cared for, and it 
was unanimously agreed to lead them to 
the opposite side of the lake, where there 
was good pasturage, and let them shift for 
themselves. This proposal was duly carried 
into effect. The finishing touches were put 
to the fort, and the Texans were prepared 
for an enemy. Their numbers, all told, 
amounted to nine — the captain and lieuten- 
ant, six Rangers, and Felix. The men were 
in good spirits, and longed to test the supe- 
riority of their weapons over the fire-arms 
of the “blanketed nation,” as they con- 
temptuously called the Mexicans. 

In asserting that the men were in good 
spirits, we perhaps ought to make one ex- 
ception. There was one among them, evi- 
dently advanced in life, who had been in 
many skirmishes with the Indians, and who 
had never, as the saying is, “ shown the 
white feather” on any occasion. He was 
a daring, iron-sinewed fellow, always the 
first in mirth and danger. But now the 
sound of his laughter was not heard; his 
jokes and sallies of wit no longer infused 
life into his companions; he worked on in 
silence. It was in vain that the men rallied 


THE TEXAN BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


47 


him; they brought forth no genial sparks; he 
was deaf to all their well-meant jests. 

When the fort was completed he stood 
near the captain, contemplating it with a 
gloomy brow. 

“ Parker, you look sad. What ails you, 
man?” said Wilson, laying his hand in a 
familiar manner upon his shoulder. 

“A strange feeling has fallen upon my 
spirits,” replied Parker, in a low voice. 
‘‘ Every time I look at that fort we have 
built, I cannot shake off the conviction that 
I am looking at the spot where my grave 
will be dug.” 

“ It’s nothing, my brave fellow, but hard 
service and want of rest,” returned the cap- 
tain. “ Sleep two hours, and you will wake 
up all right.” 

“No, captain, no sleep can take away the 
impression that my end is fast approaching. 
I have often heard of people having such a 
feeling when death was very near. Look 
there, captain, where the sun-shadow falls 
across the door of the fort; at this hour, on 
the morrow, it will rest on the mound that 
covers me. Don’t think I am afraid, for I 
am not; I never was a coward, and I never 
was away from my post when there was 
fighting to be done, and never shall be while 
I can look through the sights; so don’t at- 
tribute this feeling to weakness, but to the 
kindness of that great Being who does not 
wish to remove a sinful human being like 
me without warning, but gives him a chance 
to reflect a little on his past life.” 

“ It’s very singular,” said Wilson. 

“ I grant it, but you will know by this time 
to-morrow,” replied Parker, and the conver- 
sation dropped. 

Hour after hour passed, and the men 
grew impatient, for there were no signs of 
the enemy. Both Cameron and Wilson 
feared they had wasted valuable time in use- 
less labor, and resolved to move forward in 
the morning, if no enemy appeared. Just 
before sunset, all their doubts in regard to 
the expediency of what they had done, van- 
ished. About an hundred mounted Mexi- 
cans appeared on all sides of them, except 
that bounded by the lake. The hearts of the 
boldest among the Bangers beat faster at 
beholding such overpowering numbers; they 
felt, and justly, too, that their case was a 
desperate one. 


“ Here’s work for us, boys,” said Cameron, 
calmly. “ We must fight or die, and perhaps 
do both,” he added. 

“ Felix,” said Wilson, “ can you use a 
rifle? ” 

“ I can ’spress myself in dat line.” 

“Well, here is one; it belongs to your 
master — the bravest of the brave; see that 
you do not disgrace it.” 

“ I shall ’luminate de subjeck ob makin* 
de daylight shine frough. I shall fight like 
the debbil.” 

The Texan Bangers silently took their 
places, and with trusty rifles grasped firmly 
in their hands awaited the assaults of their 
enemies. 

CHAPTEB XIII. 

THE CARCEL AT LAREDO.— THE MEXICAN 
MAIDEN. 

We left Ethington in a critical position. 
His fate seemed inevitable. Armed men 
were drawn up in order before him, who 
waited but the word of command from their 
leader to terminate his existence; but that 
order was never given. The consultation 
among the three most prominent characters 
of the group ended, and hasty preparations 
were made for a march. 

The whole party wer6 soon in the saddle 
and moving forward in the direction of the 
Bio Grande. The sudden change in the 
aspect of affairs surprised our hero not a 
little. By some strange dispensation of 
Providence (for he was disposed to consider 
it providential), he had been snatched from 
the very jaws of death, and reserved for a 
destiny known only to the great Disposer of 
events. 

He was placed on horseback with the rest, 
and strongly guarded. Wikoff and Cogswell 
kept a little in advance of the cavalcade, de- 
terred either from shame or some other 
cause from keeping near Ethington, for 
which he was grateful; as their society would 
have been an infliction he could not have 
endured calmly. Whether Ethington felt 
that degree of gratitude to a higher power 
which most men under similar circumstan- 
ces would have felt, we are not prepared to 
say; but it is certain that the startling inci- 
dents of the day produced a long train of 


* 


48 


THE mktd; '6% THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


reflections, which were not Without their 
beneficial results upon his mind. 

He thought of Andrea with less bitterness, 
and his whole being was pervaded by a more 
forgiving spirit towards her. He was even 
disposed to regret his hastiness in leaving 
her so abruptly, without first seeking an ex- 
planation. The many imperfections in his 
own character had never appeared so palpa- 
ble. Though his heart was softened by the 
spell of his better angel, his courage and 
natural energy of character were not yet 
subdued. 

He felt within himself the same energy to 
overcome difiiculties, or to meet a foe, that 
had heretofore characterized him and given 
him the name (among his enemies) of the 
“Texan Bravo,” an appellation which, 
though not entirely deserved, could very well 
be applied to him; for the Texan soldiery 
was considered by the Mexicans as little 
better than organized bands of banditti and 
villains, and our hero the most daring and 
desperate among them. 

While he rode on in thoughtful silence, he 
often heard himself nfade the subject of con- 
versation by those around him, and had the 
honor of knowing that he was considered a 
dangerous man, and as sanguinary in his 
disposition as any bravo that ever walked 
the streets of Venice in times long gone. 
Before the expiration of the day, he learned 
that they were on the way to Laredo, a Mex- 
ican town on the east bank of the Rio Grande, 
destined to figure somewhat, some time after, 
■in the annals of the Mier expedition. 

Leaving a large post oak bog (in which 
General Somerville afterwards got mired 
with his seven hundred and sixty men, horses 
and packs) on the left, they pushed rapidly 
forward, and reached Laredo after three 
days’ travel. During this time Ethington 
was treated with as much kindness as he had 
reason to expect from such people. The 
moment that they drew rein at Laredo, he 
was thrust into a carcel, damp and dirty as 
any of its size to be found in the interior of 
the enemy’s country. He was not only in- 
carcerated, but heavily ironed and poorly 
fed. When he had been a few days in the 
carcel, he was visited by Wikoff and the 
alcalde. The former had recovered from' 
the effects of the wounds he had received at 
Bexar, and was row ready to engage in new 


schemes, as well as to carry out the plans* 
which he and Cogswell had concocted on the 
banks of the Neuces. The threatening scowl 
which had always appeared upon his brow 
whenever he confronted Ethington, seemed 
to have grown deeper and more menacing in 
its expression since they last met; 

“ Buenos dios, senor^’’’’ said Wikoff. 

“I hope you will always speak that lan- 
guage,” remarked Ethington. 

“ Why so, Caballero ? ” 

“ Because you have forfeited'alU right to 
your mother tongue,” replied our hero.” 

“ Do you know why I have come to youi 
in this carcel ? ” 

“ I have no desire to know.” 

“I will tell you — I am going to see Miss* 
St. Aubert.” 

“ IndeedI ” 

“/Si senor, and that is not all.” 

“ Well.” 

“ I shall bring her to -Laredo.” 

“ If you can.”^ 

“ That will not be difficult. T can do it 
without consulting her wishes, if I choose.’^ 

“ What shalh youi do when/ you have 
brought her here ? ’’ asked Ethington, striv- 
ing to keep down, the indignation which the 
insulting manner of Wikoff. was fast exciting. 

“ So shrewd. a person as yourself, I should 
think, might imagine the rest;, but as you 
choose to be so stupid, I will try to aid your 
perceptions a little,” added Wikoff, his eyes- 
sparkling with fiendish satisfaction. “ I 
shall be wedded to Miss St. Aubert on the 
very hour of our arrival, and youishall witness 
the ceremony.” 

Ethington looked at his manacled hands,, 
and then at the malicious face of Wikoff; he 
was regretting that his limbs could not be at 
liberty for one moment only. Wikoff seemed 
to divine his thoughts, and was pleased that 
his taunts had the desired effect. 

“ Tam aware,” he resumed, with provok- 
ingcoolness, “ that you have yourself aspired 
to the honor of Miss St. Aubert’s hand — a 
happiness which is in reserve for me only. 
I am a man of feeling; I pity you, I’m sure. 
It will be a consoling reflection, and serve to- 
beguile the tedium of a long hour, to know 
that the woman whom you have loved is 
about to be wedded to one who has rendered 
you such important services as the individ- 
ual now before you has had the pleasure of 


THE TEXAN BRA 70; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


49 


doing; also that the fair bride will soon be 
near you.” 

Walter was too full to reply. The name 
of Andrea called up emotions which made 
him truly wretched. Every word connected 
with her stung him to the quick. No species 
of annoyance and torture could have been 
more successful than that adopted by Wikoff ; 
and the latter perceived the fact, and con- 
gratulated himself upon his cunning. He 
left the carcel, well satisfied with «the pain 
he had inflicted, and resolved to render his 
suffering still more intense. 

Although Walter had been willing to 
believe a short time before that Andrea had 
possibly given Wikoff some encouragement, 
and perhaps some trifling mark of favor, a 
revulsion now took place in his mind, and 
he was strongly inclined to the opinion that 
he would be obliged to .trust more to strata- 
gem to bring about his wishes, than to the 
usual mode of wooing a fair lady. 

Knowing him to be a villain, and wholly 
unfit to be the companion of one like Andrea, 
notwithstanding her infidelity to himself, 
Ethington now felt an eager desire to escape 
in order to bafile him in his designs, if for 
no other reason. In the event of his effect- 
ing this object, if he should be able to dis- 
cover that Miss St. Aubert had really 
entertained any friendly feelings towards 
him, he would contrive some way to warn her 
of her danger, and thus discharge a duty 
which he felt that he should owe to any fe- 
male similarly situated. 

Ethington’s unexpected meeting with An- 
drea had called up many emotions which he 
had known in the past. When the first 
shock of surprise consequent upon that unex- 
pected meeting had passed away, and he had 
thought calmly and rationally upon the sub- 
ject, he was quite sure that he had judged 
too hastily in regard to any connection which 
she might have had with Wikoff’s object in 
being near her on the night of the attack 
upon Bexar. Without pausing to notice the 
different phases of thought and feeling which 
agitated him by turns, we will reiterate the 
fact that he was now fully determined to 
make strong efforts to regain his liberty. 

The next time the turnkey visited him he 
complained of his chains — that they hurt his 
wrists and ankles, and needed to be more 
skillfully adjusted, or changed for others less 


objectionable. By dint of fair words he pre- 
vailed upon the turnkey to send the black- 
smith to examine the obnoxious portions of 
chain, and if he thought proper, to make the 
desired alteration. So much being conceded, 
he hoped he should be able to manage the 
rest without difficulty. The smith came, and 
was left with our hero. 

“ Well, senor, what’s wanting ? ” he asked, 
throwing some of the more common imple- 
ments of his trade upon the floor. For a 
reply, Ethington managed to get his hand in 
his vest pocket and take out a piece of 
money. 

“ My jewelry does not fit well,” he said, 
with a significant smile. “ You will oblige 
me by taking out those iron rivets and put- 
ting lead ones in their places.” 

“/esM, senorl ” exclaimed the smith, ap- 
parently horrified at the proposal. 

“ It is easily done,” added Ethington. 

“ Ah, Bios! ” he added, not forgetting to 
pocket the money. “ What would be done 
to me, if I should be discovered ? ” 

“ There is no need of being discovered,” 
continued Walter. 

“But if they should chance to come in 
and catch you with your chains off ? Qra- 
cios a Bios! ” 

“ That they will not do. I will be care- 
ful.” 

“ I should be shot in the plaza; si, pot 
cierto ” — yes, for certain. 

“ Tonteria — nonsense; you will die in your 
bed, with your friends all around you. See, 
I have more of the dust.” 

The turnkey entered and interrupted thia 
interesting conversation. 

“AK B^os/” cried the smith, pretending 
to examine the chains. “ These things must 
be fixed; prcdcoes, — it is necessary; they will 
kill him. I will go and get some more suit* 
able implements and return.” 

With a significant wink at Ethington, the 
iron-worker left the carcel to come back after 
the lapse of half an hour, duly provided with 
leaden rivets, which were properly placed, 
according to our hero’s wishes. 

It was about dark when these operations 
were completed, and after receiving a liber- 
al reward, the smith departed with a pleasant 
good-night. The outer door of the carcel 
had scarcely closed upon him when Ething- 
ton’s jewelry was lying harmlessly beside 


THE TEXAK BRAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 




Slim. So far all had gone well; other steps 
were now considered, and he lay awake a 
2ong time during the night, concocting va- 
rious plans of escape, very few of which, 
upon mature consideration, appeared feas- 
ible. 

When the turnkey brought him his black 
bread and water the next morning, he was 
still undecided. While he was examining 
the carcel, and puzzling his brains for ex- 
pedients, a Mexican female was ushered in- 
to his cell. The turnkey drew back, closed 
the door, and the two persons thus left cara 
a cara, regarded each other with profound 
embarrassment. The young lady was very 
pretty, and wore the silken ribosa, that cov- 
ered her neck and shoulders with charming 
grace. 

“ Good morning, senorita,” said Ething- 
ton, in the language of the country, and 
bowing very low. 

The bright-eyed beauty blushed like a 
peony, and gathered her ribosa more closely 
about her comely person. 

“You are an American?” she said, or 
rather asked, timidly. 

Walter replied in the affirmative, and with 
a smile politely pointed towards the only 
seat in the cell. 

“ Ave Maria! ” she added, glancing about 
the little cell. “ What a close place, and 
what irons they have put upon you, senorl ” 

“ They are very ungraceful, senorita. 
Should you be afraid of me if I should take 
them off ? ” 

“No, senor,” replied the fair visitor, 
coloring. “ I think not— why should I ? ” 

“ Sure enough, why should you ? ” said 
Ethington. “Now, fair doncella, tell me 
what you wish; or more properly, the object 
of your visit.” 

“Not to harm you, senor,” replied the 
maiden. 

“ Ah I I can well believe that,” answered 
Walter. “ The heart of kind women is the 
oame all over the world. When she visits 
the prisoner, it is usually to do the work of 
an angel of mercy.” 

“ MucMsimas gracias — thank you; it is 


kind of you to say so. Do you know any of 
the Texan Rangers ? ” 

“I know them well; I have fought side 
by side with them many a time.” 

“ There is one among them ” 

The maiden hesitated and looked down. 

“ I read part of your secret, I think. 
There is one among them whom you know,” 
added Walter. 

“ Si, senor.” 

“ Perhaps he is fond of you,” continued 
the other, softly. “ May I ask his name ? ” 
“ Cameron,” said the maiden. 

“ Lieutenant Cameron — a brave fellow; 
and he is honorable, too. If he has made 
any promises, he will keep them.” 

“ Rweno,” she said, and seemed well 
pleased. “ But tell how you came here. I 
will sit down here and listen very patiently; 
I shall not be tired.” 

And Carmencita — ^for that was her name — 
sat down and remained quiet, while Ething- 
ton leaned against the wall, and told her 
how he was captured, together with some of 
the principal events in his histoiy. 

“ You were at the Alamo, then ? ” 

“ I was, donceZla.” 

“ You saved a young man’s life there ? ” 

“ I did.” 

“ That was my brother,” said Carmencita. 
“ How fortunate that I did so; because it 
saved you so much grief.” 

“ And saved your life ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And shall save it again,” added Carmen- 
cita, firmly. “ I love him very much, and I 
am grateful to you, because you saved his 
life. I am so sorry that you are so unhappy. 
Was this Andrea you have spoken of, so very 
cruel and deceitful ? ” 

Ethington sighed and remained silent. 

“ You look very sad; it was wrong of her 
to deceive you. But let us think of getting 
you out of this gloomy carcel.” 

“ I am not averse to that; though having 
formed so agreeable an acquaintance, I am 
not so anxious in that respect as I was.” 

“You maybe obliged to stay here some- 
time yet to enjoy it,” replied Carmencita, 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


61 


-with a laugh. “ But you must be patient; I 
may not be able to do anything for you in 
one day, or two perhaps, yet you are safe.” 

“ I seem to be safe,” said Walter, looking 
at the damp stone walls. 

‘‘Yes, but not in that sense. You shall 
be at liberty before a week. Remember 
that I am your friend and protectress. Col- 
onel Savriego is expected here daily.” 

“ And who is Colonel Savriego ? ” asked 
Walter. 

“ Mi padre — my father,” answered Car- 
mencita. “When he returns to Laredo, 
you shall be set at liberty, and before that 
time, if possible.” 

Ethington expressed his thanks in grace- 
ful terms, and saw with a sigh the door of 
the carcel shut out the charming figure of 
his new friend. Misanthrope as he had 
been, and still was, he was not insensible to 
the worth of the other sex. He felt that it 
was an amelioration of his sufferings to have 
the sympathy of one gentle heart; and if he 
sighed when the dark-eyed Carmencita 
passed from his sight, he was sadder when 
he could no longer hear the light echo of 
her footsteps. 


CHAPTER XTV. 

THE “ RASCAIiLT WORLD.” — THE ESCAPE 
FROM THE CARCEL. 

The life of a prisoner is a dreary one 
under the most favorable circumstances. 
An unconquerable desire to be at large, and 
master of his own actions, takes possession 
of him night and day. The dark walls grow 
darker every hour, and his chains more irk- 
some. He envies the birds their freedom, 
and sometimes feels that he would exchange 
places with the humblest insect that creeps 
through the crevices of his prison.” 

Despite an occasional visit from Carmen- 
cita, Walter felt depressed, and a rapidly in- 
creasing desire to escape. The idea was 
ever present, and fixed itself most deeply 
upon his mind, that Andrea was in danger. 
He could not exorcise this anxiety by revert- 


ing to her infidelity to him. The truth that 
she was still dear to him could not be wholly 
disguised. He owed her the same kind 
ofiices that he owed to all human beings. If 
she were in danger, it was his duty to warn and 
save her, even as he should do for any 
female under heaven. That she was in dan- 
ger, he was now fully convinced; the threats 
of Wikoff had proved as much. 

But he was in prison; he could not fly to 
warn and aid her. Reflections of this nature 
will serve to explain the great secret of his 
impatience. But we would not convey the 
idea that he hoped aught from Andrea; for 
he did not. To him she was dead, and 
there could be no resurrection. 

One day the turnkey thrust another pris- 
oner into his cell. His plea for doing this 
was that the carcel was full, and there was 
no alternative. Ethington expostulated, 
but it availed nothing. 

“He is a very harmless fellow,” said the 
turnkey; “ and you will like him. He is so 
peaceable that I put no irons upon him, you 
see. Ah, Dios I I wish they were all as 
docile.” 

If the new-comer was “ docile,” his appear- 
ance greatly belied him; for Walter, after a 
hasty scrutiny, determmed that a more ugly 
looking fellow never respired within the four 
walls of a prison. He was a Mexican, and 
seemed to have been picked from among the 
lowest of the robber hordes that infest the 
dark valleys and gloomy mountains of Mex- 
ico. His face, that portion of it not lost in 
a wilderness of dirty black beard, was fright- 
fully seamed with scars, received, he only 
could tell where and under what cir- 
cumstances. 

His apparel had been rich and showy in 
its day, with the full complement of silver 
buttons and red stuffs; but its gaudiness had 
long since passed away, and it now exhibited 
only a large amount of filth and raggedness. 
He had a strong odor of vino mascal and was 
enjoying a cigarillo at the moment of his 
entry. 

“He’s as gentle as a lamb,” added the 
turnkey. 


52 


THE TEXAN BKAYO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


The fellow drew forth his cigarillo, grinned 
horribly, and bowed. 

“What’s his crime?” asked Walter, not 
at all liking the tout ensemble of his prison- 
mate. 

“He is suspected of holding treasonable 
communication with los J.mencanos,” said 
the turnkey, and retired. 

The worthy gentleman took possession of 
Ethington’s couch of straw without cere- 
mony, and smoked away at the stump of his 
cigarillo with admirable nonchalance, eyeing 
our hero all the while with much attention. 

“ Will you have a cigarro ? ” he asked. 

Walter declined the proffered civility. 

“Ah I lo hue es el mundol ah, what is the 
world? ” he exclaimed, in a sentimental way, 
though in a voice far from musical. “ It’s a 
miserable world,” he added, “a very ras- 
cally world.” 

“ Perhaps so,” replied Walter. 

“I know it is,” resumed the fellow; “ I 
shouldn’t be here, if it were not so; no se, 
senor.” 

From the instant Ethington saw this man, 
he had felt a conviction within him that his 
object in coming there was not a good one; 
that (to be plain) some evil was meditated 
against himself. His sinister expression, a 
certain villanous twinkle in the eye, his easy 
devil-may-care familiarity, all tended to 
strengthen his suspicions, and put him upon 
his guard. 

“ I have heard, senor, that you are a des- 
perate fighter,” he remarked, after a silence 
of several minutes. 

Walter thought it best to encourage this 
idea, and therefore replied: — 

“ Yes, I am a match for three Mexicans.” 

“ You must be very strong. What do 
you eat? ” said the new-comer, with a shrug 
of the shoulders, and a facetious expression. 

“ Raw flesh I ” answered Walter, gruffly. 

“ What kind, senor ? ” 

“ I prefer tender Mexican,” replied Walter. 

“ Mi I) lost ” exclaimed the fellow, with a 
scowl. “Xos Americanos are cannibalsl 
Well, I have heard so. Do you love to 
fight? ” 


“ Prodigiously I ” said Walter. “ If these 
chains were off, I should like to try it with- 
you.” 

His prison-mate perpetrated a strange 
laugh resembling the growl of a young bear. 

Walter’s suspicions were now fully awak- 
ened, and he resolved to watch the Mexican' 
closely. In order to do so, when he believed - 
himself unobserved, he closed his eyes after 
a little time, and feigned sleep. The prison- 
er addressed him, but Walter made no reply. 

“I have fought in many places, senor,” 
he said; but there was no response. “ I 
have received my share of wounds, too. I 
have deserved well of my country, and you 
see how I am rewarded. As I said before,, 
it is a rascally world.” 

Walter’s breathing was deep and natural. 
His chest heaved as a sleeping person’s- 
chest should; but his eyes were not quite 
closed. It was near the hour of night; the 
sun’s beams were receding rapidly from, 
the prison, and made but a faint track of 
light across the bars of the grated windows. 
The first mist of twilight came stealing in. 

“You are bad company, senor; I believe 
you are sleeping.” Our hero respired heav- 
ily, and made a slight spasmodic movement, . 
as sleeping persons are apt to do. 

The man laid aside his sombrero, which he 
had worn till now, threw aside the short 
stump of his j cigarro, and scrutinized Wal- 
ter’s features particularly. As he bent for- 
ward to get a better view, the latter per- 
ceived the handle of a small dagger con- 
cealed beneath his frock. Suspicion now' 
deepened into a conviction amounting al- 
most to a certainty. Walter yawned heav- 
ily, and brought his hands into a position 
where he could suddenly cast off the iron 
clasps from his wrists. 

The new-comer relapsed instantly into a 
listless posture; but when our hero feigned 
to slumber soundly again, his former vigil- 
ant expression returned. He arose noise- 
lessly to his feet, and laid his hand upon 
his breast over the dagger. But he hesita- 
ted; a certain kind of fear seemed to hold 
him fast and root him to the spot. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


53 


Possibly the reports which he had heard 
■of the strength and courage of the man be- 
fore him made him falter in his purpose. 
'The strange words of Walter might have 
^lad their effect. The natural ferocity of his 
nature began to triumph over his scruples. 
Before him was work in keeping with the 
‘ovents of his past life. To him there was an 
■excitement in the shedding of human blood 
that possessed an infernal charm. He 
grasped the weapon whose silver hilt peeped 
•from his bosom and glistened in the feeble 
dight. His large chest was agitated with 
‘the powerful emotions at work within him, 
•and Walter could discern its unnatural heav- 
iings. His nostrils dilated; his lips were 
compressed upon his teeth; his eyes flashed 
like glowing furnaces. He thrust one foot 
^forward, and stood on tip-toe. The weapon 
nvas drawn forth, another step was made, 
land the assassin’s breath was concentrated 
in his lungs for the fatal stroke. 

Walter suddenly arose to his feet, grasped 
his chains firmly in his hands, swung them 
aloft, and brought them down upon the 
head of the villain with all the power of his 
muscular arms. The effect was instanta- 
neous and decisive. The assassin was 
•crushed to the floor with the force of the 
:shock, and lay motionless and senseless. 
The weight of the chains, and the strength 
applied, might have prostrated a wild buf- 
falo upon the prairies. 

Ethington immediately transferred his 
irons to his fellow-prisoner, and secured him 
as effectually as he could. While he was 
performing this friendly office, a small 
whistle rolled from the Mexican’s pocket. 

“ No doubt this has called your fellow- 
rogues together many a time,” said Walter, 
taking it from the floor. “ Perhaps,” he 
.added, after a little reflection, “ I may make 
it useful.” 

The assassin began to show signs of life, 
and Walter thrust a handkerchief in his 
mouth to keep him quiet. He then divested 
him of his frock or tunic in the best way he 
<jould, with the assistance of the dagger. He 
transferred the garment to his own person; 


and shortly after the trowsers, silver but- 
tons, grease and all, changed owners in a 
similar manner, while the broad sombrero 
graced his brows. 

The assassin now gave indications that he 
was sensible of what was taking place. He 
attempted to rise, but was disagreeably baf- 
fled by the jewelry. 

“ This is a bad world, senor, a very ras- 
cally world I ” said Walter, quoting the lan- 
guage of his “ docile ” friend. “ People are 
so ungrateful,” added Walter. “ See what 
you get by serving your friends. Ah, cap- 
itan, the world is full of ingratitude I ” 

The man shook his fetters desperately, and 
growled down his throat. 

“ I hope your employers paid you some- 
thing beforehand, for I dare say they would 
not scruple to cheat such a peaceable fellow 
as yourself. I hope, also, that you saw a 
priest before you came on this ugly business. 
I am strongly tempted to try this dagger’s 
edge. You would oblige me by indicating 
the precise spot where that organ represent- 
ing the human affections is supposed to be 
located.” i 

By close scrutiny, Walter was able to per- 
ceive that the villain was excessively terrified, 
really believing that his last hour had come; 
for in his opinion a desperate fellow, like 
the Texan Bravo, would not pass over so 
good an opportunity to gratify his sanguin- 
ary disposition. He would have begged 
humbly, abjectly for his life, had his tongue 
been at his command; but as it was, he could 
only lift up his manacled hands in mute en- 
treaty. 

Walter now resolved to make an experi- 
ment which possibly might be the means of 
regaining his liberty, and perhaps, on the 
contrary, might add to the rigor of his im- 
prisonment. He placed the whistle to his 
lips and blew a shrill blast. In a short time 
he heard steps approaching, and presently 
the door of his cell was opened by the turn- 
key. Walter drew the sombrero over his 
eyes, and jostled him in such a manner, 
while he was entering, as to knock the light 
from his hand. 


54 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“ It is done, he whispered; “letusgo.^’ 

“ JesM, senorl So soon ? ” exclaimed the 
turnkey. 

“ Yes, it is all over; come away.” And 
Ethington caught him by the arm, and hur- 
ried him along the corridor of the carcel to- 
wards the little court opening upon the 
street. They stood before the large door of 
the prison; the keeper fumbled in his girdle 
for the key, but, it being totally dark, tried 
several before he found the right one. They 
passed into the court, and a gate was yet to 
be opened. 

** Was it easily done ? ” asked his conduc- 
tor, as he placed a key to the lock. 

“ Quite,” said Walter. “ One blow, and 
all was over.” 

^ “ Life is very short,” moralized the keeper. 

“Very; and changeful, too,” answered 
Walter. 

The key had already turned in the lock of 
the outer gate, when the first rays of the 
moon, which had just risen, fell across Wal- 
ter’s face. 

“ Ah^ Dios I whom have we here ? ” ex- 
claimed the keeper. 

For a reply, Walter knocked him down, 
and pushing open the gate, ran from thecar- 
cel as fast as possible. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE ATTACK ON THE FORT. 

The night drew on apace and flung its 
•ilent shadows over the land of the “ Lone 
Star.” Prairie, lake and chapparel were 
wrapped in the dreamy mists of the hour. 
The gentle winds had departed with the sun, 
and left the leaves at rest. The wild melo- 
dy of birds floated no longer upon the fragrant 
air. The little lake near the fort seemed to 
slumber in the stillness. 

“ Men,’.’ said Wilson, “ a serious contest 
is before us, but we are well protected by 
these rough, yet firm walls of wood. We 
have for a long time been trained to war, and 
each of us knows what is required of him in 
a case like this. In our hands we hold the 
weapons which have sent terror among our 


enemies more than once. No men living 
understand the art of using them better than 
we. The Texan Rangers are well known 
and dreaded, and we will not throw a stignift 
upon their well-earned reputation. Yonder 
you can discern the bivouac of our foes; they 
are cowards when matched with equal num- 
bers, and revengeful when the superiority of 
numbers gives them an advantage. They 
will destroy us to a man, if they can, and 
the fate of the defenders of the Alamo and 
of Goliad tells us what we may expect.. 
Let us remember that we were at San Jacin- 
to, and do our duty to the last. Surrender^ 
we will not; I, for one, would sooner perish 
where I stand.” 

“ And I also,” said Cameron; “ and I also,”" 
responded every one. 

“ Shall we wait for them to attack us ? ” 
asked Wilson, “ or shall we give them a taste of 
our metal ? They are within reach of us, a&^ 
you will perceive.” 

“Perhaps we had better keep quiet un- 
til they make a demonstration,” replied 
Cameron. 

“They are preparing to do it now,” re- 
turned Wilson. “ See — a small party have 
mounted their mustangs to see what they 
can make of us at a nearer point of view. 
They are armed with carbines and escopetas,. 
I should judge. They hope the darkness 
will render their bodies rather indistinct, 
marks for our rifles. They expect to draw 
our fire at but little personal hazard, and 
thus determine our strength.” 

“ That is no doubt their intention,” re- 
plied Cameron. 

“ See if you can count them,” added the 
captain. 

“There are about fifteen advancing. I 
wonder how many empty saddles will return 
it would be interesting to know. I wish the 
moon would hurry up. How still it is I Such 
a hush as this frequently precedes storms. 
I would give something to know what those 
fellows are thinking of. Perhaps the fear of 
death has already fallen upon some of them 
with all its chilling mystery.” 

Parker, who was standing near Cameron^. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


55 ' 


turned towards him with a strange though 
quiet smile, faintly discernible in the feeble 
light which crept in through the pierced 
walls. 

‘‘ I should think they might feel some 
dismal forebodings. If there are indeed 
presentiments, they should have them; for 
they are so near their dissolution,” added 
Wilson, impressively, “ that the angel of 
death might crush them with his wings as he 
flies over.” 

“ I will pick off the leader,” said Cam- 
eron. “ Good heavens I how tardy the moon 

isl” 

“ We can see well enough to answer our 
purpose, I think. Now, men, if you can 
cover an object with your steel barrels, 
let your barkers speak up sharp and disturb 
the digestion of some of those fellows I Cam- 
eron, give yonder chap an ounce and a half.” 

“ It shall be done, captain,” said the 
lieutenant. 

“ Go yer de’th, Massa Kentuck,” added 
Felix. 

“ I can cover him,” added Cameron. 

“ Then give it to him.” 

A single report broke the silence; the 
foremost saddle was emptied, the party drew 
up suddenly and were motionless for a brief 
space; but that brief space was enough. 
The Rangers instantly pounced in their fire, 
with what effect they could not well judge — 
for the darkness of the hour and the smoke 
served to cover the retreat of the survivors — 
but it was quite certain from the speed with 
which they returned to their companions, 
that the ammunition had not been wasted. 

This prompt and probably unexpected re- 
pulse checked the ardor of the assailants for 
the time being, and the Rangers began to 
believe that they shouldn’t be molested 
again during the night; but they were doomed 
to disappointment. Just before the dawn 
of day there was a general assault upon the 
fort. Advancing upon all sides, save that 
towards the lake, they discharged their car- 
bines, and received the fire of the Texans. 
Some of them reached the fort and clambered 
upon the flat roof; others passed them up dry 


sticks and every combustible material that 
they could obtain. After several attempts, a 
dense smoke curled up from the roof, and 
presently a flame, which soon streamed up 
into the skies, reflecting fantastic shadows 
upon the lake. 

During the time occupied in producing: 
this result, the Rangers had not been idle; 
they had employed their weapons with dead- 
ly effect; but the darkness that is always the 
precursor of day, proved their enemy. 

“They can’t reach us,” said Wilson, 

“ unless they burn us out — and these log» 
are too green to afford them much chance of 
that.” 

“ They begin to give back,” remarked 
Cameron. “ The Texan rifles terrify them. 
Hark! what was that ? ” 

“ I heard nothing new,” replied Wilson, 

“I smell fire!” exclaimed Cameron. 
“ Look up! they have kindled a fire over our 
heads. The infernal heathen wish to burn 
us alive.” 

“Keep cool — they can’t do it!” cried 
Wilson. “ The logs are too wet to burn — it 
will go out of itself. Give it to them, men — 
be lively— blaze away wherever you see their 
heads — be sure that every shot tells.” 

“ The ‘ Lone Star ’ forever! ” shouted tho 
Rangers. 

Wilson paused and looked anxiously up; 
the fire was indeed spreading. 

“ I thought it was too green to burn,” he 
observed, while a painful shade of anxiety 
crossed his face. 

“ Green wood makes the hottest fire when 
fairly started,” said the lieutenant. “ They 
have kindled it with dry sticks and bark.^* 

“ Look a heah, Massa Kentuck,” observed 
Felix. “ Just let dis darkey feller out, and 
he’ll fix de fire in no time, and perhaps less 
dan dat.” 

“Nonsense, Felix! they’ll fix you raoret 
likely,” returned the captain. 

“ I isn’t a good mark, massa cap’en,” h® 
answered. 

“ And why not ? ” asked Wilson. 

“ ’Kase I’s so near de cullor ob de night, 
j,ejoined tlie African. 


56 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“ They’ll see the whites of those two 
eyes,” remarked Cameron. 

“ I wasn’t ’dressin’ myself to youl” said 
Felix, with dignity. 

“ I fear to let you venture out,” added the 
captain. 

“ I’ll spress myself and lUminate de nature 
oh de subjeck; I’d rudder be shot dan lo 
burn, Massa Kentuck; dat is de pecooliar 
state ob my indervidooal senterments.” 

“What can you do out there, Felix?” 
asked Wilson, after looking again anxiously 
at the flames, which were fast increasing in 
yolume. 

Frow off de combustionable sticks, and 
pitch de Mexicans to de debbil,” replied 
Felix, firmly. “Now open de door and let 
me out quick, for de flames begin to promul- 
gate like tinder.” 

Wilson cast one more hurried glance up- 
ward, and then said: — 

“ Go, and if you are killed, we shall lose 
one of the best niggers in the world. ” 

“ Let me look out in that direction before 
you unbar the door,” said Cameron. 

Now’s your time — all clear — let him out,” 
he added, immediately. 

“Ay,” said Wilson, “open it is — ^go it, 
Felix.” 

“Go yer de’thi” cried the latter, and 
dashed out into the open air where the 
bullets were flying like hailstones. In a 
moment he had grasped the ends of the pro- 
jecting logs, and drawn himself to the roof. 
Two of the enemy were still there, feeding 
the flames with dry sticks and bark, which 
their comrades threw up to them. The Afri- 
can sprang towards them with irresistible 
fury; one he felled with his fist, and the 
other he caught in his athletic arms and 
threw from the roof as he would have thrown 
a billet of wood; another moment, and he 
was scattering the blazing brands in all 
directions. 

A loud shout arose from the Mexicans, 
and a shower of balls whistled about him as 
he spun the flaming material away with his 
foot. The task was done; the negro swung 
his old hat in the air, shouted at the top of 


his voice— “Go yer de’th, yer debbils! ” 
leaped down, and was instantly pulled into 
the fort by Wilson and Cameron. 

“Heaven bless your woolly head I ” ex- 
claimed the captain. “ There’s considerable 
of the Kentucky alligator about you, after 
all. You’re a brave darkey, and I’ll bear 
that in mind.” 

“ ’Spress yerself — pile it on,” said Felix. 

It being near dawn, the enemy made no 
further attempt to fire the fort, but kept up 
a continual discharge of carbines and escope- 
tas, covering themselves as much as possible 
behind trees, rocks and shrubbery to guard 
against the fatal effects of the Texan rifles. 
The chapperel served their purpose very 
well, and the firing was most frequent in 
that direction. Occasionally a bullet would 
find its way through a crevice, and its 
strength being spent, roll harmlessly upon 
the ground, or strike the opposite wall with 
feeble force. 

The Rangers were impatient for the day- 
light, that they might use their weapons 
with more fatal results. The darkness 
melted away before the approaches of the 
sun. The red light swept along from the 
ruddy east, and revealed the scene of the 
contest. 

Several figures were discovered lying upon 
the earth whose eyes received no light, and 
whose bodies felt no warmth from the daz- 
zling beams. They had fallen in the conflict ; 
their ears were deaf to all earthly sounds, 
and the passions which had hurried them 
to their fate were extinguished forever. 

Parker stood near Wilson reloading his 
rifle, which he had just discharged. The 
latter turned to the former with a good- 
natured smile. 

“You see that your presentiments amount- 
ed to nothing,” he remarked. “ I hope you 
feel quite well, now ? ” 

“ It is not noon yet,” was the calm reply. 
“ If I should fall, bury me here, and say to 
my friends that I did my duty.” 

Parker ceased speaking, and threw his 
ramrod upon the ground. In the very act of 
placing a cap upon the tube, a ball struck 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


57 


’hi'.u upon the breast; he staggered, and 
AVilsori caught him as he was falling. 

‘‘ It’s in my lungs,” said Parker. 

The captain tore open his vest, and the 
blood was bubbling slowly from a wound in 
the right breast. Wilson had seen many 
wounded men, and knew by the peculiar red 
color of the vital current that it came from 
the lungs. 

“ Don’t mind me,” added Parker. “ You 
•can employ yourself better; it’s of no use, 
I knew it would come to this.” 

The kind-hearted ranger did what he could 
'to staunch the blood, but it was a vain 
attempt. He placed some blankets under 
him, then returned to his post and encour- 
aged the men, who were endeavoring to 
])ick off those who had taken a position in 
the chapparel. It was certain death to him 
who exposed his person; an unseen mes- 
•isenger was sure to find him. 

In a short time, Wilson was by Parker’s 
side again. lie was suffering intense pain; 
at every respiration, the blood sallied forth 
•afresh. 

“ How do you find yourself? ” asked the 
scaptain. 

It goes hard with me,” said Parker. 

“ Do you feel as though you were going ? ” 

• continued Wilson, taking his companion’s 
lhand. 

“ Sinking fast,” murmured Parker. “ I 
:suffer much — I had hoped to go easier.” 

“ Can I do anything — do you feel pre- 
pared ? ” added the captain. 

As well prepared, perhaps, as if I had 
been permitted to live longer. War is not a 
trade that fits one for heaven,” was the reply, 
spoken with much effort. 

‘‘ You have fought for your country,” said 
Wilson. 

“ Yes, in the past; but now I am fighting 
with an enemy that cannot be conquered,” 
replied Parker. 

The angel of death is strong,” said the 
ranger, wiping his eyes. 

“ Yes, he tears me,” added the dying man, 
painfully convulsed. “ His fingers are at 
work here— here,” laying his hand on his 
.chest. 


Cameron now drew near, and leaning on 
the barrel of his rifle, looked sadly upon the 
face of his comrade-in-arms. 

“You see how it is,” said Parker, in a 
faint voice. “ I am paying the last debt; 
I’m bound to the unknown country; the last 
enemy presses hard on me.” 

“ We are sorry to part with you,” replied 
Cameron. 

For a short time the dying ranger was un- 
able to speak, and the angel tugged away at 
his brave heart. He then raised himself up- 
on his elbow and said: — 

“I’m going on the long march — a road 
which all the world must march over. I 
hear the tattoo of death — I go to my last 
quarters! God bless you — farewell.” 

Parker feebly pressed the hands of his 
companions, his lips moved as if in prayer— 
he looked at Wilson, smiled, and joined the 
great army which no man can number. An 
hour before noon they buried him there and 
the sun at his meridian crept in, and his 
beams lay across the grave. The enemy, 
having lost many of their numbers, observed 
much caution in their offensive operations 
during the day, but upon the ensuing night 
several determined assaults were made, which 
were promptly repelled by the Texans. At- 
tempts were also made to fire the fort, but 
providentially their purpose was baffled by a 
shower. Finding that they gained nothing 
by this mode of warfare, the Mexicans now 
resolved to reduce the brave band by famine. 

But little was now done on either side, and 
the assailants waited patiently for hunger 
to perform what mere force of arms could 
not. The Rangers saw with feelings of the 
deepest solicitude their little stock of provis- 
ions wasting rapidly away, and finally dis- 
appear. Their new enemy was now the 
most formidable. They suffered from hun- 
ger and thirst, particularly the latter. 

“ Something must be done,” said Captain 
Wilson to Cameron. “ Our brave fellows 
begin to suffer.” 

“ I know it,” replied the lieutenant; “ and 
I have thought of a plan which may perhaps 
succeed.” 

“ Let us hear it,” replied the other. 


58 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


“ It is this. At dark, to-night, I will leave 
the fort and try to make my way to the other 
side of the lake where we left our horses. 
If fortune favors me, I shall reach Bexar 
and bring you relief. A few shots from our 
gatlant boys would disperse yonder cowards.” 

“ But it would be difficult to leave the fort 
without being shot down or taken. They 
evidently intend to starve us out, and are 
watching us as a cat does a mouse. It grieves 
me to see ^ brave man hazard his life in such 
a way, for the chances are against you.” 

“ I am aware that it is a hazardous under- 
taking, captain; but one will be more likely 
to succeed than all of us. I am resolved to 
try,” replied Cameron. 

“ No, I will go. I planned this expedition; 
I have led you and our companions into dan- 
ger, and it shall be mine to make an attempt 
to extricate them.” 

“ I will not consent to it,” said Cameron. 
“ I claim the right to incur the risk. Remem- 
ber Marianna.” 

“ I have thought of her. And tnere is a 
name you have spoken which I have not 
forgotten.” 

“Yes, Carmencita; but her remembrance 
must not deter me from duty — it should 
rather stimulate me to acts of heroism,” re- 
joined the lieutenant. 

Wilson ceased to press the subject further, 
and at night Cameron prepared to go forth 
on his mission. 

“ This rifle,” he said, when ready to make 
the attempt, “ I will leave with you, for if 
anything should happen to me, I should not 
like to have it fall into the hands of our 
enemies; it has done too much good service 
to merit such a fate. I will take this weapon 
that belonged to poor Parker. Now, my 
lads, let us shake hands all round, for we 
may never meet again.” 

“ It is useless to tell you to be cautious,” 
said the captain, “ I know that you will ex- 
ercise all the prudence that mortal man can. 
“ If you shouldn’t be successful, and we 
should never see your face again in time, 
what shall we say to Carmencita, should we 
happen to meet her by some singular 
chance?” 


“That I was true to her to the last; tha> 
will be enough; she will know what it means,’"' 
he replied. 

“ Word for word,” responded Wilson. 

“ It is quite dark, now, and I need delay 
no longer,” said Cameron. 

The door was opened cautiously; the man- 
ly form of Cameron passed out, and all was 
still. They listened breathlessly, but no 
sounds came back to tell them of their com- 
rade’s fate. They ventured to hope that ho 
had baffled the vigilance of the enemy and 
reached the opposite side of the lake in 
safety. 

“ I think I can see some object in the wa- 
ter,” said one of the men. 

“So can I,” said Felix. 

“ Where ? ” asked Wilson. 

The first speaker indicated the spot with 
his finger. 

“ I seel ” exclaimed the captain, energeti- 
cally. “It’s Cameron; he is swimming^ 
across the lake. His rifle is lashed upon hi& 
back, and he strikes out boldly; but I fear 
this sudden burst of moonlight will betray 
him.” 

“ He is still within gunshot of the enemy,” 
added the other; “ they could riddle him 
with their bullets in a moment.” 

“ He’s a strong swimmer,” said the cap- 
tain, “ but I fear the chances are greatly 
against him. Hark! I hear the centindob 
alerta of the sentinels. Cameron has gone 
down; but he breaks water and appears 
above the surface again. He is yet undis- 
covered; I believe he will succeed.” 

The parties watched the brave swimmer, 
until he passed round a small headland and 
was no longer visible. From each heart 
there went up a silent prayer for his safety. 

In the long catalogue of human miseries 
there is none more dreadful than the agonies 
of intense thirst. The Rangers had already 
begun to feel its horrors; lips were parched,- 
tongues hot and dry. If they slept, they 
saw in their dreams delicious streams of wa- 
ter that mocked their thirst. 

But necessity is the mother of expedients; 
with such implements as they had, the men 
began to dig a hole within their narrow pre- 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


59 


cints. After much labor they had the pleas- 
ure of seeing the excavation gradually fill 
with dirty looking water; but they drank it 
eagerly and with grateful hearts. 

Their courage now revived, and the enemy 
heard them cry viva la Texas, with an ener- 
gy that surprised them. TVilson declared 
that the muddy liquid was the sweetest water 
he ever drank. 

We will not follow the devoted band step 
by step in the sufferings which they experi- 
enced for the next two days. We will not 
describe their hollow cheeks and sunken 
eyes, nor paint the inroads of hunger upon 
constitutions naturally robust. But there 
were no murmurings heard. Stern resolu- 
tion and defiance was written in legible 
characters upon every face. Each spoke 
hopefully, and no one thought of surrender- 
ing. Each remembered the fate of Travis 
and Bowie, Crocket and Fannin. Whenever 
the enemy came within range he instantly 
discovered the sight of a Texan rifie ; and it 
was next to a miracle if he escaped. 

On the night of the second day after the 
departure of Cameron, the assailants made a 
desperate attempt to storm the little fort. 
Believing that the Texans must inevitably 
be in a poor condition to fight, they resolved 
to defer the hour of triumph no longer. 

The Kentuckian encouraged his compan- 
ions, and determined to beat them back or 
perish. All was done that the most exalted 
courage could’ suggest, or the most dogged 
obstinacy inspire. 

The men fought with the desperation of 
despair; but hunger had enfeebled them, 
and continued watching anxiety and exer- 
tion had wasted their energies in an alarm- 
ing degree. None were more daring or 
efficient than Felix. He used his master’s 
rifie with great effect, and manifested a spir- 
it of determined bravery. 

“ My friends and comrades,” said Wilson, 
“ the worst has come. We must either beat 
them off, or never see another sun rise. 
They will probably overpower us at last; 
but we will die here and leave our bones to 
bleach beside those of poor Parker. Our 
countrymen will not forget us, and the Ran- 


gers will avenge our death. It is not so 
hard a thing to perish fighting for one’s coun- 
try as cowards imagine. The good soldier 
rises superior to pain; he feels but one slight 
pang and all is over.” 

“They are all around us,” said one of the 
men. “We can keep them out but little 
longer; they will either burst in upon us, or 
burn us up.” 

“ If the Rangers were only here,” replied 
Wilson. 

“ We’ll fight ’em to the death I ” exclaimed 
the other. 

“Here dey come like de debbill ” said Fe- 
lix. “ Good-by, Massa Kentuck.” 

The enemy were now attempting to force 
the door. At that instant, the surrounding 
country resounded with rifle shots, and the 
battle-cry of the “ Lone Star ” drowned the 
shouts of the assailants, and found many an 
echo among the hills and gorges. 

“ ’Spress yerselfl Go yer de’th! ” cried 
Felix. 

“The Rangers, by heavens 1 ” exclaimed 
Wilson. “ Thank God, boys, we are saved.’^ 

“Does ye hear dat?” added Felix, joy- 
fully, as volley after volley was heard from 
the Rangers. “ Dat’s what does de good.” 

“ Hurra for Texas and Old Kentuck! ” 
shouted Wilson. 

“ The enemy are flying in all directions,’^ 
said one of the men. 

“ Ob course,” added Felix, positively. 
“Dey’d whip de debbill ” 

“Here they come!” added the captain. 
“Open the door, men.” 

The door was quickly unbarred; and the 
brave fellows rushed out into the open air^ 
and embraced their companions with feelings 
of joy and gratitude that no pen can describe. 

“ Where’s Cameron ? ” cried Captain Wil- 
son, as his brave company came dashing up 
towards him. 

“He’s here,” said a voice, and Cameron 
himself pressed forward and grasped the 
outstretched hand of Wilson. “ I met our 
noble lads on the way,” he said. “ Ridgley 
had already warned them of our danger, and 
they were hastening to our relief; but they 
would not have reached us in time to have 


•60 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


been of any service, if I had not fallen in with 
them and guided them on by the shortest and 
most practicable way. You need refresh- 
ment and rest, and, thank God, you can now 
sleep in safety I ” he added, glancing proudly 
at the Rangers. 

Yes,” answered Wilson with a smile of 
pride; “ I can now sleep in safety, for I well 
remember how the Texan Rangers fought at 
San Jacinto, when we punished Santa Anna 
for his sins.” 


CHAPTER XYI. 

THE FINALE. 

We left Walter Ethington running from the 
"carcel. He had not proceeded far before 
the cries of the turnkey had turned out the 
guard and many of the citizens of Laredo. 
Our hero was surrounded just as he reached 
the plaza\ for not being acquainted with 
localities, he had taken the wrong direction. 
He prepared for a determined resistance ; but 
the guard were brought suddenly upon him 
at the charge of bayonet, and he was marched 
back to the carcel. 

As he was conducted to his cell, he met the 
personage who had attempted his life. His 
head was bleeding profusely, and he had just 
been relieved of the “ jewelry.” He favored 
our hero with an expressive glance, and took 
occasion to remark with a malicious grin 
that it was “ a very rascally world indeedi” 

As it was his turn to triumph, Walter bit 
his lips with vexation, and made no reply. 
In a few moments he found himself estab- 
lished in his old quarters, and provided with 
a new set of irons much heavier than the 
former ones. It was useless to repine, and 
he bore his dissappointment with as much 
stoicism as possible. 

Carmencita did not visit him for several 
-days, and he began to wonder at her long 
absence. At length she came. 

“ I began lo think you had forgotten me,” 
he said, with a smile. 

“No, senor; I seldom forget my promises; 
but you began to despair, it would seem, and 
*80 tried to escape without my assistance,” 
fihe answered. 


“ I attempted to regain my freedom,” re- 
turned Walter; “ and I think you will pro- 
nounce the trial excusable, when you learn 
that I narrowly escaped assassination.” 

Walter then related the particulars of the 
incident which led to his futile endeavor to 
regain his liberty. Carmencita was greatly 
shocked at hearing this, and declared her 
determination to lay the matter before those 
whose business it was to look after such 
things. 

“ My father has returned to Laredo,” she 
added; “and I have obtained an order for 
your liberation. In a few minutes you will 
be free from those irons.” 

While she was speaking, the smith ap- 
peared, and relieved him of his irons. 

“ I feel like a man again,” said Ethington, 
as he spurned the irons away with his foot, 
and felt that he once more had control o£ 
his limbs. 

“ I sent information to Bexar by a trusty 
messenger,” continued Carmencita, “con- 
cerning your condition. The bearer of my 
message was fortunate enough to meet those 
who were interested in your fortunes. They 
await you a short distance from Laredo, 
You will be conducted to them, and the debt 
of gratitude which I owe you, will in some 
measure, be liquidated.” 

“Eair Carmencita,” replied Ethington, 
“ how shall I express my thanks ? And 
what shall I say to the brave Cameron ? ” 

“Just what you please, senor,” she an- 
swered; “ except to tell him that he is not 
forgotten.” 

“ He will be glad to hear from you; I am 
quite certain that I have heard him speak 
your name. Captain Wilson used to rally 
him about a dark-eyed senorita,” said Walter. 

Taking leave of Carmencita with many ex- 
pressions of esteem and professions of friend- 
ship, he was provided with a mustang, and 
conducted from Laredo with great secrecy and 
despatch. 

“ Yonder are your friends,” said the guide, 
after a gallop of an hour. “ I need go no 
further.” 

Ethington rode forward, and in a few mo- 
ments, to his surprise, beheld the tall figure 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 




of Ridgley; and near him was Augustus 
Henrie, dressed as usual, and looking as fop- 
pish as ever. Our hero advanced and took 
the extended hand of Ridgley without reserve. 

“ Your efforts to serve me,” said Walter, 
“ have disarmed me of prejudice. I confess 
myself your debtor.” 

“The account may be balanced at your 
leisure,” replied Ridgley, smiling. 

“ In relation to my young friend,” added 
Walter, turning to Augustus Henrie, and 
taking his small, white hand, “ I scarcely 
know what to say. You have served me 
with singular fidelity and disinterestedness.” 

“ But never was so fortunate as to be 
much of a favorite,” replied the youth, with 
a smile. 

“ I will be frank,” rejoined our hero, with 
a slight change of color. “ I will confess 
that I did not formerly feel very friendly 
towards you.” 

“You were inclined to think me rather 
foppish, I believe, Mr. Ethington,” returned 
Augustus, good-naturedly. 

“ If I were ever so unkind as to do you in^ 
justice, I trust you will pardon me; for I re- 
gret my ingratitude very sincerely,” resumed 
Walter. 

“ With pleasure, sir. With my smooth, 
beardless face and slight figure, it was per- 
haps natural that you should think me want- 
ing in manly attributes ; we will let that pass.” 

“I trust it will cure me of the foolish 
habit of judging by appearances,” added our 
hero. 

“ I cordially hope so,” said Ridgley, earn- 
estly; “ for the very habit has caused all your 
unhappiness.” 

“ You allude to Andrea St. Aubert,” re- 
plied Ethington, quickly, and with less cordi- 
ality. “Upon that subject you know we 
never agree.” 

“ I have heard that you once loved my 
cousin Andrea,” rejoined Augustus. 

“ You heard truly, my good youth. I loved 
her most devotedly; but do me the justice 
to believe that I would not have broken off 
the connection without sufficient cause.” 

“I have never sought your confidence,” 
said Ridgley, “ but I now ask you in the 


most earnest manner, and entreat you by 
any gratitude or friendship which you may 
now be disposed to feel towards me, to speaa 
plainly, and inform me why you left m} 
niece, Andrea, in the abrupt and strange 
way you did ? ” 

“ I will do as you desire,” answered Wal- 
ter, sadly. “ Upon a certain evening I wit- 
nessed an interview between her and anoth- 
er lover. I saw them part with mutual tears 
and embraces. The sight maddened me 
past endurance, and I have not been happy 
since that fatal hour. Can you wonder ai 
my misanthropy — can you reproach me thav 
I am miserable ? ” 

“ He can do better than that,” replied Au*- 
gustus. “He can inform you that thal 
young man was her brother, who was to 
leave her that very hour for college.” 

The party had dismounted and were stand- 
ing near each other. At hearing this unex^ 
pected announcement, Walter’s cheek grew 
ashy pale, and he turned his eyes wildly 
towards Augustus. Springing forward, he 
caught him by the arm, exclaiming: — 

“What is this I hear? What strango 
words would you utter ? ” 

The youth was much agitated, and un- 
able to reply immediately, and Ridgley spoke. 

“ The lad speaks the truth. Andrea St.^ 
Aubert is pure as the angels. She is inca- 
pable of wronging you. Natures like here 
are elevated far above deceit. An enemy 
has imposed upon you.” 

“Repeat what you have said,” added 
Walter, shaking the arm of Augustus with 
considerable impatience. “ I would hear it 
repeated from your lips.” 

“ It is true — true as holy writ,” stammered 
Augustus, greatly discomposed by the ve- 
hemence of Walter. 

“ And that man was her brotherl ” cried 
the latter, fiinging the youth from him. 
“ Then I have wronged Andrea St. Aubert 
past forgiveness; my headlong haste has 
made me the most unhappy of men. I have 
been duped, cruelly duped.” 

“ You have,” resumed Ridgley, “ and 
Wikoff is the man. It was by his agency 
that vou were induced to doubt her and seek 


52 


THE TEX AX BRAVO; OR, THE LOXE STAR OF TEXAS. 


proof of her guilt. He sent the false friend 
to you who led you to the place of pretended 
meeting.” 

“ It must be so,” returned Walter. 

“ It appears to me,” said Augustus, “ that 
you were a little too precipitate. You 
should have seen my cousin Andrea, before 
you broke off the engagement. A word 
from her would have prevented all this long, 
protracted misunderstanding.” 

“Very true; but that time has passed 
and cannot be recalled. I can only lament 
my error, and punish the villain who has de- 
ceived me by cunning artifices.” 

The revulsion that took place in the mind 
of Walter was very great, as well as unexpect- 
ed. To hear that Andrea St. Aubert was 
innocent, was a relief; but with the gladness 
consequent upon such a discovery, there 
was mingled much self-reproach and bitter- 
ness. He now saw that he had been de- 
ceived and wronged by an artful rival, and 
while smarting under the supposed griev- 
ances, had cruelly wronged one as dear to 
him as his own honor. 

As he rode forward towards Bexar, ac- 
companied by Eidgley and Augustus, and 
the half-dozen neighbors who had volun- 
teered to assist the former, he was a subject 
of the deepest remorse. 

“ Did you really feel any friendship for 
Andrea ? ” asked Augustus, unconcernedly. 

“That’s cool I ” said Walter, coldly. 
“ You are not very deeply versed in matters 
pertaining to the affections.” 

“ I don’t care to be, if it makes people 
so desperate,” retorted Augustus. 

“ Wait till your beard grows,” added Wal- 
ter, smiling. 

“ That will be a long time,” added the 
youth, passing his hand over his smooth chin. 

“ I think so,” answered our hero. 

On the following day the party was 
agreeably surprised by meeting the Texan 
Rangers, who were moving towards Laredo, 
fully determined on Walter’s release. It 
was a pleasant incident to our hero, for he 
felt a strong attachment for Captain Wilson 
and Lieutenant Cameron, as well as their 
brave fellows. Ethington was much affect- 


ed at the recital of their sufferings, and tho 
friendship they had manifested for him. 
The order to right about face was given, and 
the Rangers moved towards Bexar in the 
best of spirits. 

Felix was nearly wild with joy, and found 
it exceedingly difficult to “ ’spress himself” 
on that occasion. Walter did not forget to 
have a long interview with Cameron, in 
which the name of Carmencita was often 
repeated, and the lieutenant appeared in ex- 
cellent humor, while our hero was a greater 
favorite with him than ever before. ' 

It was observed soon after the party had 
crossed the Heuces that Felix was nowhere 
to be seen, and his master began to feel anx- 
ious for his safety. Presently he joined 
them at a gallop, swinging his hat and much 
excited. 

“Yah, yah! Heah, heah! I’s gin it to 
him! ” he exclaimed, with an uncommon ex- 
hibition of ivory and whites of the eyes. 

“ What have you done ?” asked Walter. 

“ Killed de debbil! ” replied Felix. 

“Let us follow him,” said Wilson; and 
the captain and Ethington spurred their 
horses after the African. In a short time 
the latter drew up on a piece of bottom-land 
or interval, to which the attention of the 
reader has been before directed. A man 
was lying upon the grass near the river. 
Walter threw himself from his horse and 
bent over him — it was Wikoff! 

The pains of death had already seized 
him. There was a dark spot upon his fore- 
head; a rifie ball had entered there, and the 
life drops were slowly oozing out. 

“What means this?” exclaimed Walter. 

“ It means that I am dying,” said Wikoff, 
in a faint voice. 

“ He’s got de debbil, massa,” said Felix. 

“ Served him right,” added Wilson. 

“ Go yer de’thl ” cried the African. 

“ Hush! ” said Walter. “ The man is 
dying.” 

“ It grows dark — earth is fading away,” 
said Wikoff. “ I am not ready — would to 
God I could live for a day! ” 

“ You’ll be a corpse before five minutes,” 
added Wilson, bluntly. 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


63 


Wikoff tried to rise upon his elbow, but 
■could not. His expression grew wild, and 
his eyes dim. 

“Andrea St. Aubert is innocent; she 
loves you still,” he said in a hollow voice. 

These were his last words. Death stopped 
his utterance, and his eyes glossed over for- 
ever. Each stood silent a moment, as if list- 
ening to the sound of angel’s wings, as he 
conducted away an erring soul. 

“ Thus ends the career of a villain I ” said 
Wilson. 

“ Yes,” replied Walter, with a sigh; “ and 
may God forgive him.” 

“You manifest a more Christian disposi- 
tion than I ever expected you would,” re- 
turned the ranger, as they moved away 
from the spot. 

As they rode to rejoin their friends, Felix 
turned in the saddle and shook his fist at the 
body of Wikoff. 

“ What made you do it? ” asked Walter, 

“ Ease I had a chance,” said Felix. “ He 
has made trouble enuff. I’ve ’spressed 
de natur ob my convictions on dat subjeck. 
He ’suited dis cullud pusson once on dat 
very spot.” 

“ Do you think,” said Walter to Augustus 
Henrie, “ that I could have an interview 
with Miss St. Aubert ? ” 

“ For what purpose ? ” he asked. 

“ To confess my fault, entreat her to par- 
don me and say farewell. Will you be my 
messenger to Andrea ? ” 

“ I will,” replied the youth. 

“ This very hour ? ” added Walter. 

“ This very hour,” said Augustus. 

“ Go then, my good youth, and I will 
await your return here at camp. Do not 
keep me long in suspense, because my feel- 
ings during your absence will not be of the 
most enviable kind\” 

Promising to be expeditious, and use all 
his infiuence with Andrea, Augustus de- 
parted upon his mission. After the lapse 
of an hour, which seemed an age to Ething- 
ton, a colored servant brought a note from 
Mr. Eidgley, stating that Miss St. Aubert 
had reluctantly granted his request; and 
begged that the interview might be brief. 


Our hero directed his steps towards Mr. 
Eidgley ’s mansion, agitated by emotions 
which no man in his senses could have cov- 
eted. He felt as a person might be sup- 
posed to feel who had committed some great 
crime, and on his way to the confession- 
al to unburden his conscience. 

How would Andrea receive him ? How 
should he appear in her presence ? Was 
there any hope that she would pardon 
him? 

To none of these questions could he 
return a very encouraging answer. The 
man who fought at San Jacinto trembled 
violently when he entered the dwelling of 
Mr. Eidgley. He was conducted to the par- 
lor and kept waiting a few minutes in a state 
of trepidation bordering on insanity. 

He heard the door open and light foot- 
steps advancing; he ventured to raise his 
eyes, and Andrea St. Aubert stood before 
him. She had lost nothing of that dazzling 
beauty which distinguished her from all 
others of her sex. Walter averted his gaze, 
and was too much embarrassed to speak im- 
mediately. 

“I have presumed,” he stammered, 
“ Miss St. Aubert, to solicit an interview.” 

Andrea made no answer. 

“ I have come to confess my error. I do 
not expect you to forgive me, but I wish 
you to witness my contrition, and hear me 
avow how deeply I regret what has hap- 
pened.” 

“Augustus has told me all,” replied An- 
drea, striving to suppress her emotions. 

“ I have suffered much,” said Walter. 

“ I know it, Walter, and I freely forgive 
you. You were more sinned against than 
sinning,” said Andrea, in a gentle voice. 

“ I thank you from the depths of my heart 
for this condescension! ” exclaimed Wal- 
ter. “ You will forgive me, then ? ” 

“ For the sake of Augustus,” said Andrea. 

“ But your kindness is limited to a certain 
extent; it leaves me nothing to hope from 
your love, and I did not expect it,” resumed 
Walter. 

“ To please Augustus,” added Andrea. 

“Dare I believe what I hear?” he ex- 


64 


THE TEXAN BRAVO; OR, THE LONE STAR OF TEXAS. 


claimed, advancing and taking Andrea by 
the hand. 

To please Augustus,” repeated Andrea, 
smiling. 

The next moment — no, that will not do; 
the blushes of my heroine shall be spared. 
I have no right to describe what ensued. 
TTho will dare to embrace the mistress of 
his heart after a reconciliation, if it is to be 
put in print and pass before the optics of a 
hundred thousand readers ? It is not fair; 
such moments of rapture belong wholly to 
those who experience them. 

“ As you have done so much to please 
Augustus,” said Walter, after an interval of 
silence, “ be good enough to send for him, 
that I may thank him as he deserves.” 

Andrea wiped the happy tears from her 
eyes, and left the room. In a short time 
Augustus and Mr. Ridgley appeared. 

“ In you I have had an exclient advocate,” 
said Walter, embracing the youth warmly. 
“Through your intercession, I have been 
made the happiest of men.” 

“ It’s a pity I am such a dandy,” rejoined 
Augustus. 

“ I thought you had forgiven and forgotten 
that,” added Walter, with a smile. “ Where’s 
Andrea ? I wish to see you both together.” 

“ You shall,” said Augustus; and instant- 
ly throwing off his cap and outer garments, 
our hero saw Augustus and Andrea in one. 

“Andrea St. AubertI ” exclaimed Ething- 
ton, recoiling with surprised. “ Is it possi- 
ble that I have been so stupid 1 ” 

“ ’Spress yerself I promulgate — ’luminate 
de idee I ” cried Eelix, rushing into the 
room. “ Yah, yahl heah, heahl ” 


Walter turned towards Ridgley and at-- 
tempted to speak; but his heart was too full. 

“ She is unequaled,” said Ridgley. 

“ I feel that I am unworthy of her,” re- 
plied Walter, greatly wrought upon by the 
singular denouement, 

“ But to please Augustus,” said Andrea. 

“ Yes,” said Walter, earnestly, “ to please 
Augustus, I would undertake a pilgrimage 
to Jerusalem.” 

“It is unnecessary,” added Ridgley.” 

“ I can now understand how a certain- 
chain was restored to me,” added Walter. 

“I was her agent in that transaction,’” 
answered Ridgley. 

Gentle reader, we will dwell no longer up- 
on these pages. Andrea St. Aubert and 
Walter Ethington were shortly after united, 
and the Rangers danced at the wedding. 
Captain Wilson improved the opportunity 
to enter into a similar arrangement with 
Marianna Lee. There was much joy and 
hilarity upon the occasion, and Felix was 
never more salubrious in his life. 

Not long after this event, it was rumored 
that Cameron was about to follow suit, and 
that Rosalia was engaged to the second lieu- 
tenant. 

Cogswell was never again seen or heard in 
that part of the country. 

Why should we linger to say that Walter 
and Andrea were happy ? It is useless to- 
make the remark, for true love has the pow- 
er to strew life’s rough pathway with flowers. 

Time has written its years upon the record 
of eternity. The empire has rolled 
ward, and the “ Lone Star” has become 
of a glorious constellation. 


WALLACE JFOONEK, 


* Printer, ‘ 

17 Province 5treet. 

B2ST2N. 

-?S- 


Fine Catalogue Work a Specialty 


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